Author Archives: jacksonharrison

Let us start with a famous intuition pumps; the trolley problem. It goes something like this (from Wikipedia):

The utilitarian doctrine would state that it is not only the right thing to do, to pull the lever and save a net of four lives, but that anyone in this position is obliged to do so. Given the potential consequences of the actions, to not pull the lever would be as morally significant as taking four innocent lives (of course, this is controversial, and different conclusions are reached by adopting a deontological approach, but let us assume the utilitarian framework here).

Taking such a stand makes obvious a gap between what we ought to do given the utilitarian conclusion, and what we see as intuitively right or wrong. I would argue the intuition that one is obliged to go and pull the lever, is not one that is widely held. Nevertheless, if we insist on taking our moral reasoning seriously we should give relatively little weight to what we consider to be initiative, perhaps aside from the minor reduction in happiness or utility it would directly cause. 

Moving to the sphere of the real world, Peter Singer in Famine, Affluence and Morality has the following to say: 

It follows from what I have said earlier that we ought to give money away, rather than spend it on clothes which we do not need to keep us warm. To do so is not charitable, or generous. Nor is it the kind of act which philosophers and theologians have called “super-erogatory” – an act which it would be good to do, but not wrong not to do. On the contrary, we ought to give the money away, and it is wrong not to do so. 

There is obviously an abundance of suffering, famine and other less-than-utile things in this world, enough to absorb (almost) any one individual’s resources. If we follow the arguments laid out by Singer we end up at the point where we should be giving to the point of marginal utility, that is, to the point where giving any further would mean putting ourselves in a position of poverty. 

One may push back on this conclusion is with something along the lines of “in theory yes, I could move to a country town, never buy a new dress again, pay half the rent and give the rest away, but I’d need to give up my current job for one that pay significantly less, and at the end of the day, I’d end up donating less.”

The project of optimising one’s inputs and outputs to maximise their positive impact is riddled with uncertainty. For simplicity sake if we consider only financial means, the individual in the above circumstances should indeed keep their current job in their current town in order to be able to donate more money, one may even say to do so would be obligatory. This question becomes exponentially more complex once we begin to consider additional factors outside of the immediately quantifiable. What is to be said about the individual working for a cigarette company who is donating tens of thousands of dollars, versus the climate activist struggling to keep up with their rent. 

Uncertainties aside, it’s quite clear that although moving to the small town is not the correct moral decision to make, there is likely a certain buffer in which one has to move in regards to moving toward optimising their moral outputs. There are almost certainly that pair of shoes; the ones that although a bit more expensive, we had to have (especially because they were on sale). There is the new couch; yes it was a little over budget, but you have to pay if you want quality. There is also that dinner; the one on Friday night with your friend you haven’t seen since last year, at that expensive restaurant. And what about your holiday? You’ve been planning it for a year or so, and it’s been the thing getting you through the past few weeks at work. 

What is there to be said about the above situations, in regard to what one morally ought to do? I think most would agree perhaps in our modern consumer society, we could go without the shoes. Certainly if we adhere strictly to our utilitarian foundations, the shoes would at most bring us some mild level of happiness, for a short period of time, before blending into the bottom of our spare room wardrobe. That money however, could provide bed nets, it could be given directly to those without a meal, or provide malaria treatment. This circumstance is relatively straight forward. 

And the couch, we really do need a new couch. Our previous one is broken, and we don’t have anything to sit on when we get home from work, or wake up late on a Sunday morning. We sit down and try to think it through. We agree that a couch is useful, and although we don’t need it, it’s sufficiently important to us and we would like one in our lives. Okay, so how much are we to spend on said couch, do we simply require a piece of furniture that supports our body weight in a not uncomfortable fashion? Does it need to fit in, with our dining table, rug, paint on the walls? Should we spend a little more, to get the trusted brand name that we think will last a few extra years?

From a purely moral perspective here, the only relevant point would likely be the cost-benefit of the quality of the couch, with maybe some weight attached to the level of comfort (although I would imagine this would quickly plateau if represented graphically, with comfort against price). This situation seems a little less clear from a moral perspective, but it likely looks something like buying the cheapest couch available, of sufficient quality, that is above some minimum threshold of comfort. 

It’s a week out now, from that dinner your friend had booked at the expensive restaurant. If the booking is cancelled any time after tomorrow a $100 fee per head will be applied (that is truly immoral), so there’s no turning back beyond this point. Your friend, let’s call him Adam, and yourself have both been doing the “we have to catch up soon” dance since last year. Adam has really been looking forward to seeing you, and trying out this restaurant, he booked 2 months in advance. You know it’s expensive, very expensive, and didn’t realise until after he had booked.

There are obviously two things happening here, one you’re catching up with Adam, and two, you’re going out to an expensive restaurant. The two have become somewhat tangled up though, planning and effort has gone into this dinner on the part of Adam, and it’s not too much of a stretch to believe that it may damage the quality of the night if you were to suggest canned beans for dinner, and to donate the saved cash. Friendships are built on shared experiences, and the efforts like that Adam has gone to for this evening. Sure not all cost money, but this one, will. Now we are in the situation of having to balance the good that will come of spending a night with a friend, one that will no doubt bring us some units of happiness, against that of the potentially donated money. In the one case, one may be able to strongly argue that indeed the dinner is immoral, and there is no excuse for not enjoying the beans (at least you’ll have beans they may say).

But what if we generalise, are we never to pay for anything that would bring us only marginal units of happiness, because this money may be better spent saving those from starvation, those who truly need it (in the most literal sense of the word need)? Is every action we take with the goal to achieve some fleeting sense of happiness for ourselves necessarily one that is immoral? What about the fact that by going to dinner, we’re investing in our friendship with Adam, his interests, and reinforcing a friendship that brings us happiness across a broader timescale, the kind of happiness we see as a true end when we think of the utility we’re trying to maximise? Intuitively, here, it seems as though we should just go to the damn dinner, but we really shouldn’t give much weight to our intuitions, should we. 

Then there is the case of the holiday. Similar to the case with moving to a small town, there is doubtless value in taking time away from work for the greater good. Most would agree that overall units of productivity are increased when steps are taken to minimise ones burn out, and that working incessantly without a break is not the optimal approach. This particular holiday however, you have booked a tour through the major cities of Europe. The costs for flights, accommodation, souvenirs and food will likely amount to at least a few thousand dollars.

Should you instead have booked a campsite at the trailer park nearby, and set up your tent for a couple of weeks? You would have no doubt saved thousands, and would’ve gotten away without having to eat a single airline meal. You would still get out of your town, away from work, and be able to get some physical activity in, all the essential elements of a good holiday. But part of the reason you’d booked this particular tour was to explore the various European cultures you’d heard so much about. You’ve been practicing Spanish, and would love to try your hand at ordering a paella in Valencia. These pursuits again would bring you a sense of happiness that would be an end in and of itself, further than that acquired from purchasing a new additional pair of shoes. How do these stack up against the thousands of dollars, or likely few lives, that will otherwise be washed away from the hands of those who are in need. 

These are difficult questions, and things that I have personally wrestled with at great length. The majority of discordance, for me at least, comes from the question of how to balance the pursuit of an intrinsically valuable life, that has sufficient experiences that are of personal value, and the obligations we have as privileged individual moral agents existing in an interconnected society. The two options certainly do not exist as mutually exclusive, however at the margin, with our extra resources, some level of moral calculus needs to be done as to how we are to allocate our excess resources, which as Singer states includes anything above our point of marginal utility.

The way that many answer this question is to adopt some kind of rule that serves to bypass the need to perform a complex moral dilemma with each and every decision I make day to day. The Giving What We Can pledge is the main thing that comes to mind here, giving 10% of one’s income to effective charities. Although strictly speaking, this may not mean I am living to the point of absolute marginal utility, I believe it allows a small but not insignificant contribution to the worlds problems every week without putting too much mental effort into the equation. I must admit that there is something not overly satisfying when thought about from a philosophical point of view, but is certainly a useful way of avoiding the constant weighing of moral decisions.