by Bruce E.R. Thompson.
by Bruce E. R. Thompson.
Values theory is the branch of philosophy that tries to answer the questions, “What life-long goals are worth setting?” or “What should I do with my life?” As Aristotle points out, some things are valued as a means to an end, not for their own sake, but he also believed that there were some things that were valued as “ends in themselves.” They were something we would want, even if they had no purpose beyond themselves. Such things are referred to as “intrinsic values.” The goal of values theory is to identify what (if anything) has intrinsic value.
Hedonism is the view that pleasure is the only thing of intrinsic value. Everything we do is done for the sake of pleasure. Some hedonists will also include, as part of their theory, that pain is a disvalue, and will emphasize the avoidance of pain as much as (and in some cases even more than) the seeking of pleasure. This may be important. The relation between pleasure and pain is not entirely straightforward. The most obvious type of hedonism could be labeled sensualist hedonism. A sensualist is someone who defines pleasure, in the most direct way, as enjoyable physical sensation: odors, flavors, pleasant sounds and images, and, of course, stimulation of the skin. The argument for this school of values theory is not hard to make. It is clear that pleasures are…well, pleasant, and that we desire them. It is hard to explain why we desire them, so it is easy to make the case that we desire them solely for their own sake.
Sensualist hedonism is so widely misunderstood that, before I raise arguments against it, it is worth saying a few words in its defense. Sensualist hedonism is considered to be a simpleminded theory because most people assume it can be summarized by that popular slogan from the 1960s, “If it feels good, do it.” Sensualism is confused with debauchery and licentiousness. In fact, without exception, proponents of sensualism have preached the virtues of restraint and moderation, and all (as far as I know) have practiced those virtues as well. You would be hard pressed to find better moral models than the sensualist hedonists. Furthermore, while sensualism certainly has an elegant simplicity to it, it is hardly simpleminded.
Various philosophers, notably Epicurus and Jeremy Bentham have been serious proponents of sensualist hedonism. However, the earliest proponent of sensualist hedonism was Aristippus of Cyrene, one of the followers of Socrates. After the death of Socrates, he returned to his home and founded a school of philosophy, so his followers are known as the Cyrenaics. There is a story told about Aristippus that nicely illustrates his understanding of hedonism. Aristippus lived with a beautiful and renowned prostitute, Lais. When he was criticized for living with a prostitute, he is said to have replied, “What does it matter? I am her master, not she mine.” While poorly phrased, Aristippus was saying that he enjoyed Lais, but was not governed by his lust for her. So it must be with all our pleasures. Pleasures become a burden (and so becomes open to criticism) when we become controlled by them. Desire is not a form of pleasure, but a form of pain. Hence a person who lives driven by his desires (rather than controlling or mastering them) lives a life that involves more pain than pleasure. Pleasures that become addictions must be avoided. Pleasures that produce painful consequences must be avoided. Regrettably, most pleasures—and certainly the most obvious pleasures—must be kept on a tight leash. Hence, philosophers who endorse sensualist hedonism also endorse moderation and restraint.
Once we separate sensualist hedonism from its cartoonish misrepresentation as debauchery, we can consider its actual faults, as opposed to its imagined faults. And sensualist hedonism does have faults. Plato, for example, gives a rather clever, if somewhat technical, argument against sensualism. Hedonism is, of course, committed to the claim that pleasure per se is good and pain is bad. Without that claim hedonism just wouldn’t be hedonism. However, if pleasure is good and pain bad, then the logical relations between pleasure and pain must be identical to those between good and bad. Now, good and bad are opposites. As a result, it is nonsensical to describe an object as both good and bad at the same time, in the same respect. A toga may be good in the sense that it is clean at the same time that it is bad in the sense that it is unfashionable; or it may be good in the sense that it was fashionable during the Fifth Century B.C.E., but bad in the sense that it is not fashionable now. However, just as it cannot be both fashionable and unfashionable at the same time, it cannot be both good and bad with respect to fashion at the same time.
Curiously, while we think of pleasure and pain as opposites, they are not opposites in quite the same sense. For example, hunger is a form of pain, and eating is a source of pleasure. However, eating is pleasant only when one is hungry. Once one is full, eating ceases to be pleasant. Indeed it can even become unpleasant. Similarly, drinking is a source of pleasure, but only when one is thirsty. Sex is a source of pleasure, but only when one is horny. Even scratching is a form of pleasure, but only when one has an itch. The point is that pain is linked to pleasure not merely because pleasure can lead to pain, but because one must be in pain in order to experience pleasure. Most pleasures—certainly the obvious sensory pleasures—have an associated form of distress, and the pleasure typically comes from relief of that distress: the keener the distress, the keener the pleasure. Thus, unlike good and bad, pleasure and pain are felt at the same time, in the same respect. Pleasure requires pain; but, good does not require bad.
My students sometimes try to tell me that good does require bad. What they mean is that one cannot recognize good except in relative contrast to bad, much as a dimly lit room may seem light in contrast to total darkness. I have my doubts that this is true, but if it is, it is still not similar to the relation between pleasure and pain. We do not merely recognize pleasure in contrast topain; we fell pleasure as a direct consequence of being in pain—as that pain is relieved. I do not recognize the pleasure of eating now because I can contrast it with the pain of being hungry last week. Rather, I enjoy eating now because I am hungry now. Hence, pleasure cannot be valued without also valuing the pain that accompanies it and is the occasion for it. A sensualist hedonist would have to fast in order to become hungry, in order to enjoy eating. If pleasure is good, so is the pain that occasions it. Hence, the claim that pleasure is good while pain is bad must be mistaken.
Plato’s argument does not entirely refute sensualism. While it may be true that most pleasures are occasioned by the relief of some accompanying distress, this is not the case for all pleasures. Most people report that listening to music is a source of intense pleasure. Yet listening to music does not involve the removal of a source of distress. The pleasant odor of flowers can be intensely pleasurable, but likewise does not require any pre-existing state of odor-deprivation to make it enjoyable. Pleasant sounds and pleasant odors appear to be pure pleasures, unmixed with accompanying states of pain. Epicurus distinguished between types of pleasures, and rated the pure pleasures, such as music, conversation, and the contemplation of beauty, above the mixed pleasures, such as food, drink and sex.
However, even these pure pleasures are challenged by another argument, which could be called the Pleasure Machine argument. This argument is usually presented as a thought-experiment: imagine a machine—probably shaped something like a phone booth—that one could climb into like a caterpillar in a chrysalis. Inside, one is treated to the most delicious sensations. Beautiful sounds surround you as gentle brushes stroke your skin, bringing you to a state of orgasmic delight. Your tongue and nose are stimulated with wonderful tastes and odors, and beautiful images dance before your eyes. You may stay in the machine as long as you like. You may even stay there for the rest of your life, if you choose. You do not need to worry about being either bored or over-stimulated. The machine’s designers have thought of that, so the machine adjusts the forms of stimulation that it provides and it allows periods of rest, as needed. It even allows the subject to select his or her own forms of stimulation, or to set the machine on “Surprise me,” if the subject wishes. Naturally, staying inside the machine is just what any real sensualist hedonist would choose to do, for the machine delivers the only thing of genuine value in life. Why leave?
The Pleasure Machine argument does not have to be presented merely hypothetically. There really is a machine almost as sophisticated as the one in the thought experiment, namely, of course, television. An early Simon and Garfunkel song even refers to television as “the big, bright, green pleasure machine,” and that was in the days before high-definition, wide-screen, surround sound, and streaming cable. Television only provides stimulation to the eyes and ears, but these are our most important organs of sensory perception. People regularly supplement the experience with beer and chips, which takes care of two more of the senses, and a comfortable couch takes care of the fifth. It is as complete a pleasure experience as modern technology can provide.
I have heard of people who tried to devote their lives to watching television. Some eventually became TV critics. One became a college professor who taught classes on American popular culture. There may be genuine sensualist hedonists among us. However, such people are derided as “couch potatoes,” a term that has lost some of its sting, but is still more or less an insult. We deride the television itself by calling it “the boob tube.” Most people try not to spend their lives watching television. Like all pleasures, television can be somewhat addictive, so some people spend more time watching television than they feel they should. But even people who watch a lot of television generally do so with some regrets. Why? A sensualist hedonist would be unable to answer this question. It is certainly not the case that there are better sensual pleasures available. For a modern human being, television is surely the highest-impact, most cost-effective, least pain-involving source of pleasure available. On principle, a sensualist hedonist would spend as much time as possible watching television, stopping only to sleep and go to work (to pay for potato chips, beer, and cable service).
But we all know why we prefer not to watch so much television: we simply have better things to do with our time. People may be willing to make occasional visits to a Pleasure Machine, but no one would actually choose to remain there permanently. We want things in our lives that have nothing to do with sensory pleasure. Hence, the sensualist hedonist theory of value is simply wrong. Sensory pleasure is not the only thing of value. We like pleasure, but we simply don’t value it enough to devote our lives to it.