He has a better life, in terms of welfare, by avoiding years of guilt. The main problem here is that while this is a possible account of some cases, there is no reason to think it covers all cases. Another problem is that guilt may presuppose that the soldier has a non-self-regarding desire for doing what he takes to be right.
The psychological egoist might reply that some such account must be right. After all, the soldier did what he most wanted to do, and so must have been pursuing his perceived self-interest.
In one sense, this is true. Psychological egoism turns out to be trivially true. This would not content defenders of psychological egoism, however. They intend an empirical theory that, like other such theories, it is at least possible to refute by observation. There is another way to show that the trivial version of psychological egoism is unsatisfactory.
We think the former is acting unselfishly while the latter is acting selfishly. According to the trivial version of psychological egoism, both soldiers are equally selfish, since both are doing what they most desire. The psychological egoist might handle apparent cases of self-sacrifice, not by adopting the trivial version, but rather by claiming that facts about the self-interest of the agent explain all behavior.
Perhaps as infants we have only self-regarding desires; we come to desire other things, such as doing our duty, by learning that these other things satisfy our self-regarding desires; in time, we pursue the other things for their own sakes. Even if this picture of development is true, however, it does not defend psychological egoism, since it admits that we sometimes ultimately aim at things other than our welfare.
An account of the origins of our non-self-regarding desires does not show that they are really self-regarding. The psychological egoist must argue that we do not come to pursue things other than our welfare for their own sakes. In principle, it seems possible to show this by showing that non-self-regarding desires do not continue for long once their connection to our welfare is broken.
However, evidence for this dependence claim has not been forthcoming. Indeed, when examining the empirical evidence, two sorts of approach have been used to argue against psychological egoism. First, Daniel Batson and colleagues found that increased empathy leads to increased helping behaviour.
One hypothesis is altrustic: empathy causes a non-instrumental desire to help. There are many competing egoistic hypotheses. Empathy might cause an unpleasant experience that subjects believe they can stop by helping; or subjects might think failing to help in cases of high empathy is more likely to lead to punishment by others, or that helping here is more likely to be rewarded by others; or subjects might think this about self-administered punishment or reward.
In an ingenious series of experiments, Batson compared the egoistic hypotheses, one by one, against the altruistic hypothesis. He found that the altruistic hypothesis always made superior predictions. Against the unpleasant experience hypothesis, Batson found that giving high-empathy subjects easy ways of stopping the experience other than by helping did not reduce helping. Against the punishment by others hypothesis, Batson found that letting high-empathy subjects believe that their behaviour would be secret did not reduce helping.
Against the self-administered reward hypothesis, Batson found that the mood of high-empathy subjects depended on whether they believed that help was needed, whether or not they could do the helping, rather than on whether they helped and so could self-reward. Against the self-administered punishment hypothesis, Batson found that making high-empathy subjects believe they would feel less guilt from not helping by letting them believe that few others had volunteered to help did not reduce helping.
One might quibble with some of the details. Perhaps subjects did not believe that the easy ways of stopping the painful experience Batson provided, such as leaving the viewing room, would stop it. For an account of an experiment done in reply, favouring Batson, see Stich, Doris and Roedder , as well as Batson — Perhaps a Batson-proof egoistic hypothesis could be offered: say that subjects believe that the only way of stopping the pain or avoiding self-punishment is by helping though whether subjects have this belief might be tested for on its own.
For further discussion of Batson, see May a and Slote Second, Elliot Sober and David Wilson argue that evolutionary theory supports altruism. Parental care might also be explained on altruistic grounds: the parent has a non-instrumental desire that the child do well.
Lastly, parental care might be explained by a combination of these mechanisms. Sober and Wilson argue that more reliable care would be provided by the altruistic or combination mechanisms. Given the importance of parental care, this is a reason for thinking that natural selection would have favoured one of these mechanisms.
This argument has drawbacks. Natural selection does not always provide back-up mechanisms I have but one liver. Natural selection sometimes has my desires caused by affect that is produced by a belief rather than directly by the belief my desire to run away from danger is often caused by my fear, rather than by the mere belief that there is danger.
And in these cases, as in the case of the imperfectly correlated pain and bodily injury, there seems usually to be enough affect. The altruistic hypothesis also has some of the same problems: for example, just as there might not be enough pain, the non-instrumental desire that the child do well might not be strong enough to defeat other desires.
Indeed, without an estimate of how strong this desire is, there is no reason to think the egoistic hypothesis is less reliable. It may have more points at which it can go wrong, but produce more care than a direct but weak altruistic mechanism. For many of these worries, and others, see Stich, Doris and Roedder Even if evolutionary arguments can be met, however, psychological egoism faces the problems noted earlier. Predominant egoism is not troubled by the soldier counter-example, since it allows exceptions; it is not trivial; and it seems empirically plausible.
For other weakened positions, see LaFollette and Mercer Ethical egoism claims that I morally ought to perform some action if and only if, and because, performing that action maximizes my self-interest. There are possibilities other than maximization. One might, for example, claim that one ought to achieve a certain level of welfare, but that there is no requirement to achieve more. Ethical egoism might also apply to things other than acts, such as rules or character traits.
Since these variants are uncommon, and the arguments for and against them are largely the same as those concerning the standard version, I set them aside. One issue concerns how much ethical egoism differs in content from standard moral theories. It might appear that it differs a great deal. After all, moral theories such as Kantianism, utilitarianism, and common-sense morality require that an agent give weight to the interests of others. They sometimes require uncompensated sacrifices, particularly when the loss to the agent is small and the gain to others is large.
Say the cost to me of saving a drowning person is getting my shirtsleeve wet. Ethical egoists can reply, however, that egoism generates many of the same duties to others. The argument runs as follows. Each person needs the cooperation of others to obtain goods such as defense or friendship. If I act as if I give no weight to others, others will not cooperate with me.
If, say, I break my promises whenever it is in my direct self-interest to do so, others will not accept my promises, and may even attack me. I do best, then, by acting as if others have weight provided they act as if I have weight in return. It is unlikely that this argument proves that ethical egoism generates all of the standard duties to others. For the argument depends on the ability of others to cooperate with me or attack me should I fail to cooperate.
In dealings with others who lack these abilities, the egoist has no reason to cooperate. The duties to others found in standard moral theories are not conditional in this way. I do not, for example, escape a duty to save a drowning person, when I can easily do so, just because the drowning person or anyone watching happens never to be able to offer fruitful cooperation or retaliation.
First, the ethical egoist will rank as most important duties that bring her the highest payoff. Standard moral theories determine importance at least in part by considering the payoff to those helped.
What brings the highest payoff to me is not necessarily what brings the highest payoff to those helped. I might, for example, profit more from helping the local Opera society refurbish its hall than I would from giving to famine relief in Africa, but standard moral theories would rank famine relief as more important than Opera hall improvements. Second, the cooperation argument cannot be extended to justify extremely large sacrifices, such as the soldier falling on the grenade, that standard moral theories rank either as most important or supererogatory.
The cooperation argument depends on a short-term loss such as keeping a promise that it is inconvenient to keep being recompensed by a long-term gain such as being trusted in future promises. An ethical egoist might reply by taking the cooperation argument further. Perhaps I cannot get the benefits of cooperation without converting to some non-egoist moral theory. That is, it is not enough that I act as if others have weight; I must really give them weight. I could still count as an egoist, in the sense that I have adopted the non-egoist theory on egoist grounds.
One problem is that it seems unlikely that I can get the benefits of cooperation only by conversion. Provided I act as if others have weight for long enough, others will take me as giving them weight, and so cooperate, whether I really give them weight or not. In many situations, others will neither have the ability to see my true motivation nor care about it. Another problem is that conversion can be costly. I might be required by my non-egoist morality to make a sacrifice for which I cannot be compensated or pass up a gain so large that passing it up will not be compensated for.
Since I have converted from egoism, I can no longer reject making the sacrifice or passing up the gain on the ground that it will not pay.
It is safer, and seemingly feasible, to remain an egoist while cooperating in most cases. If so, ethical egoism and standard moralities will diverge in some cases. For discussion of the cooperation argument, see Frank ; Gauthier ch. There is another way to try to show that ethical egoism and standard moral theories do not differ much. One might hold one particular objective theory of self-interest, according to which my welfare lies in possessing the virtues required by standard moral theories.
This requires an argument to show that this particular objective theory gives the right account of self-interest. It also faces a worry for any objective theory: objective theories seem implausible as accounts of welfare. I may have a duty to help others, and the world might be better if I helped others, but it does not follow that I am better off by helping others.
For a more optimistic verdict on this strategy, noting its roots in Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics, and the British Idealists, see Brink and Of course the divergence between ethical egoism and standard moral theories need not bother an ethical egoist. An ethical egoist sees egoism as superior to other moral theories. Whether it is superior depends on the strength of the arguments for it.
Two arguments are popular. First, one might argue for a moral theory, as one argues for a scientific theory, by showing that it best fits the evidence. Suppose that two men seek the hand of one woman, and they deduce that they should fight for her love. A critic may reason that the two men rationally claim that if one of them were vanquished, the other may enjoy the beloved.
Each prisoner does not know what his partner will choose and communication between the two prisoners is not permitted. There are no lawyers and presumably no humane interaction between the prisoners and their captors.
Rationally i. Herein lies the rub — if both avoid confessing, they will serve 2 years each — a total of 4 years between them. If they both happen to confess, they each serve 5 years each, or 10 years between them. For the game, the optimal solution is assumed to be the lowest total years served, which would be both refusing to confess and each therefore serving 2 years each. The probable outcome of the dilemma though is that both will confess in the desire to get off in 6 months, but therefore they will end up serving 10 years in total.
This is seen to be non-rational or sub-optimal for both prisoners as the total years served is not the best collective solution. Nonetheless, it can be countered that the nature of the game artificially pre-empts other possibilities: the sentences are fixed not by the participants but by external force the game masters , so the choices facing the agents are outside of their control.
Although this may certainly be applied to the restricted choices facing the two prisoners or contestants in a game, it is not obvious that every-day life generates such limited and limiting choices. More importantly, games with such restricting options and results are entered into voluntarily and can be avoided we can argue that the prisoners chose to engage in the game in that they chose to commit a crime and hence ran the possibility of being caught!
Outside of games, agents affect each other and the outcomes in many different ways and can hence vary the outcomes as they interact — in real life, communication involves altering the perception of how the world works, the values attached to different decisions, and hence what ought to be done and what potential consequences may arise. Firstly, the collective outcomes of the game can be changed by the game master to produce a socially and individually optimal solution — the numbers can be altered.
Secondly, presenting such a dilemma to the prisoners can be considered ethically and judicially questionable as the final sentence that each gets is dependent on what another party says, rather than on the guilt and deserved punished of the individual.
At a deeper level, some egoists may reject the possibility of fixed or absolute values that individuals acting selfishly and caught up in their own pursuits cannot see. Rand exhorts the application of reason to ethical situations, but a critic may reply that what is rational is not always the same as what is reasonable.
This criticism may, however, turn on semantic or contextual nuances. That is, there may be conditions in which the avoidance of personal interest may be a moral action. Opponents of ethical egoism may claim, however, that although it is possible for this Robinson Crusoe type creature to lament previous choices as not conducive to self-interest enjoying the pleasures of swimming all day, and not spending necessary time producing food , the mistake is not a moral mistake but a mistake of identifying self-interest.
Presumably this lonely creature will begin to comprehend the distinctions between short, and long-term interests, and, that short-term pains can be countered by long-term gains. In addition, opponents argue that even in a world inhabited by a single being, duties would still apply; Kantian duties are those actions that reason dictates ought to be pursued regardless of any gain, or loss to self or others.
Further, the deontologist asserts the application of yet another moral sphere which ought to be pursued, namely, that of impartial duties. However, the Cartesian rationalist could retort that need not be so, that a sentient being should act rationally, and reason will disclose what are the proper actions he should follow.
In complying with ethical egoism, the individual aims at her own greatest good. In a typical example, a young person may see his greatest good in murdering his rich uncle to inherit his millions. According to detractors, conflict is an inherent problem of ethical egoism, and the model seemingly does not possess a conflict resolution system. The ethical egoist contends that her theory, in fact, has resolutions to the conflict.
The first resolution proceeds from a state of nature examination. If, in the wilderness, two people simultaneously come across the only source of drinkable water a potential dilemma arises if both make a simultaneous claim to it. With no recourse to arbitration they must either accept an equal share of the water, which would comply with rational egoism.
But a critic may maintain that this solution is not necessarily in compliance with ethical egoism. Arguably, the critic continues, the two have no possible resolution, and must, therefore, fight for the water. This is often the line taken against egoism generally: that it results in insoluble conflict that implies, or necessitates a resort to force by one or both of the parties concerned.
However, ethical egoism does not have to logically result in a Darwinian struggle between the strong and the weak in which strength determines moral rectitude to resources or values. For example, instead of succumbing to insoluble conflict, the two people could cooperate as rational egoism would require.
Through cooperation, both agents would, thereby, mutually benefit from securing and sharing the resource. Take "truth telling" as an example. The principle suggests that we should tell the truth, that we ought not deceive others. Ethical egoism explains why this principle holds -- it explains the ground of our obligation. It explains the true meaning I don't like that phrase, but I'll use it here for the moment of the principle.
It suggests, ultimately, that the reason why we ought not lie is because if we do lie, that has a high probability of negatively impacting my personal happiness.
From the perspective of ethical egoism, that and that alone is the ground for the principle of "truth telling. Is this satisfying? Does this match up with your own sense of the reason for telling the truth to people? Is this the only moral reason why you ought to tell your friends the truth?
Or are their other reasons, too? Are there perhaps better reasons why one ought to follow the principle of truth-telling? Required Internet Readings. He bases his analysis of social institutions and behavior upon principles of human action, the starting point of which is a form of ethical egoism:.
Every man is, no doubt, by nature, first and principally recommended to his own care; and as he is fitter to take care of himself than of any other person, it is fit and right that it should be so. Smith [] , Instead, he argues that mutual kindness is necessary for happiness Smith [] , Here is a rough picture: Given our natural drives and our social condition, we are on the path of developing virtues, the most important of which is beneficence.
Ayn Rand , who also argues for ethical egoism and laissez-faire capitalism, however, argues that selfishness is a virtue. Altruism, which demands self-sacrifice, is even immoral. Concerned for the survival of civilization, she condemns altruism for being responsible for destroying the civilized world.
Altruism is also responsible for making totalitarian regimes such as Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia possible, given that altruism holds. Rand , Without the burden of proving empirically that everyone must always act out of self-interest, ethical egoism is more appealing than psychological egoism.
However, the biggest challenge to ethical egoism is that it lacks authoritative regulation of interpersonal conflicts of interest. Let me use an example to illustrate this point. Suppose my grandfather indicated in his will that I am his sole heir and suppose also that he is not bothered by any severe sickness. Can it be morally wrong for me to kill my grandfather to ensure that I get the money now?
Someone might also argue that ethical egoism borders on being incoherent. If what ethical egoism advocates is that everyone should do what is in their best interest, it seems confusing, if not outright inconsistent, that ethical egoism argues that doing so is how we promote the social good i.
Smith apparently thinks that they are not fundamentally incompatible because he finds a way to incorporate the virtue of benevolence into his ethical egoism. Whether he is successful in doing that i. But the challenge seems to apply to Rand. The biggest problem for ethical egoism is that it fails to be a moral theory because it cannot deal with interpersonal conflicts of interest.
Only asking people to pursue their individual interests is not enough. As countless examples show, we can all benefit much more from cooperation. The issue of coordination is crucial given interpersonal conflicts of interest. Concern for coordination leads us to the last topic of this chapter: social contract theory. The basic idea of social contract theory in ethics is that ethical rules are sets of conventionally established limits we impose on ourselves in keeping with our own longer-term interests.
This answers two fundamental questions about morality, namely, what is required and why we should obey. What is morally required is what we, as rational and self-interested agents, do or would agree upon.
The reason why we should obey is because we have agreed, or would do so if we were being fully rational. Social contract theory shares the core assumption of egoism that we are self-interested and rational agents.
However, realizing that living together in a society requires a set of rules for social cooperation, social contract theory provides a justification for why we should coordinate with others. Unlike egoism which cannot provide an impartial regulation of interpersonal conflicts of interest, social contract theory not only provides a way to handle conflicts of interest but also provides a justification for it.
Given extra assumptions about human nature, we might end up following Thomas Hobbes or John Rawls. But both agree that moral rules are essentially conventional and binding only to the degree that we see them as serving our own interests. If moral and social rules are conventional, what would life be like without such rules, and how would this establish a motivation for defining and then following such rules?
In particular, given that we are self-interested, why would we agree to obey a set of rules that sometimes limit our own self-interest?
0コメント