DebateLabKIT/deepa2-corpus · Datasets at Hugging Face

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its relevance to practical ethics is reason enough for our looking
into it.
What facts about human nature could show that ethics and
self- interest coincide? One theory is that we all have benevolent
or sympathetic inclinations that make us concerned about the
welfare of others. Another relies on a natural conscience that
gives rise to guilt feelings when we do what we know to be
wrong. But how strong are these benevolent desires or feelings
of guilt? Is it possible to suppress them? If so, isn't it possible
that in a world in which humans and other animals are suffering
in great numbers, suppressing one's conscience and sympathy
for others is the surest way to happiness?
To meet this objection those who would link ethics and happiness
must assert that we cannot be happy if these elements
of our nature are suppressed. Benevolence and sympathy, they
might argue, are tied up with the capacity to take part in friendly
or loving relations with others, and there can be no real happiness
without such relationships. For the same reason it is
necessary to take at least some ethical standards seriously, and
to be open and honest in living by them - for a life of deception
and dishonesty is a furtive life, in which the possibility of discovery
always clouds the horizon. Genuine acceptance of ethica~
standards is likely to mean that we feel some gUilt - or at least
that we are less pleased with ourselves than we otherwise would
be - when we do not live up to them.
These claims about the connection between our character and
our prospects of happiness are no more than hypotheses. Attempts
to confirm them by detailed research are sparse and
inadequate. A. H. Maslow, an American psychologist, asserted
that human beings have a need for self-actualisation that involves
growing towards courage, kindness, knowledge, love,
327
Practical Ethics
honesty, and unselfishness. When we fulfil this need, we feel
serene, joyful, filled with zest, sometimes euphoric, and generally
happy. When we act contrary to our need for selfactualisation,
we experience anxiety, despair, boredom, shame,
emptiness and are generally unable to enjoy ourselves. It would
be nice if Maslow should tum out to be right; unfortunately,
the data Maslow produced in support of his theory consisted of
limited studies of selected people and cannot be considered
anything more than suggestive.
Human nature is so diverse that one may doubt if any generalisation
about the kind of character that leads to happiness
could hold for all human beings. What, for instance, of those
we call 'psychopaths'? Psychiatrists use this term as a label for
a person who is asocial, impulsive, egocentric, unemotional,
lacking in feelings of remorse, shame, or guilt, and apparently
unable to form deep and enduring personal relationships. Psychopaths
are certainly abnormal, but whether it is proper to say
that they are mentally ill is another matter. At least on the
surface, they do not suffer from their condition, and it is not
obvious that it is in their interest to be 'cured'. Hervey Cleckley,
the author of a classic study of psychopathy entitled The Mask
of Sanity, notes that since his book was first published he has
received countless letters from people desperate for help - but
they are from the parents, spouses, and other relatives of psychopaths,
almost never from the psychopaths themselves. This
is not surprising, for while psychopaths are asocial and indifferent
to the welfare of others, they seem to enjoy life. Psychopaths
often appear to be charming, intelligent people, with no
delusions or other signs of irrational thinking. When interviewed
they say things like: 'A lot has happened to me, a lot
more will happen. But I enjoy living and I am always looking
forward to each day. I like laughing and I've done a lot. I am
essentially a clown at heart - but a happy one. I always take
the bad with the good.' There is no effective therapy for psychopathy,
which may be explained by the fact that psychopaths
328
Why Act Morally?
see nothing wrong with their behaviour and often find it extremely
rewarding, at least in the short term. Of course their
impulsive nature and lack of a sense of shame or guilt means
that some psychopaths end up in prison, though it is hard to
tell how many do not, since those who avoid prison are also
more likely to avoid contact with psychiatrists. Studies have
shown that a surprisingly large number of psychopaths are able
to avoid prison despite grossly antisocial behaviour, probably
because of their well-known ability to convince others that they
are truly repentant, that it will never happen again, that they
deserve another chance, and so forth.
The existence of psychopathic people counts against the contention
that benevolence, sympathy, and feelings of guilt are
present in everyone. It also appears to count against attempts
to link happiness with the possession of these inclinations. But
let us pause before we accept this latter conclusion. Must we
accept psychopaths' own evaluations of their happiness? They
are, after all, notoriously persuasive liars. Moreover, even if they
are telling the truth as they see it, are they qualified to say that
they are really happy, when they seem unable to experience
the emotional states that play such a large part in the happiness
and fulfilment of more normal people? Admittedly, a psychopath
could use the same argument against us: how can we say
that we are truly happy when we have not experienced the
excitement and freedom that comes from complete irresponsibility?
Since we cannot enter into the subjective states of psychopathic
people, nor they into ours, the dispute is not easy to
resolve.
Cleckley suggests that the psychopaths' behaviour can be explained
as a response to the meaninglessness of their lives. It is

its relevance to practical ethics is reason enough for our looking

into it.

What facts about human nature could show that ethics and

self- interest coincide? One theory is that we all have benevolent

or sympathetic inclinations that make us concerned about the

welfare of others. Another relies on a natural conscience that

gives rise to guilt feelings when we do what we know to be

wrong. But how strong are these benevolent desires or feelings

of guilt? Is it possible to suppress them? If so, isn't it possible

that in a world in which humans and other animals are suffering

in great numbers, suppressing one's conscience and sympathy

for others is the surest way to happiness?

To meet this objection those who would link ethics and happiness

must assert that we cannot be happy if these elements

of our nature are suppressed. Benevolence and sympathy, they

might argue, are tied up with the capacity to take part in friendly

or loving relations with others, and there can be no real happiness

without such relationships. For the same reason it is

necessary to take at least some ethical standards seriously, and

to be open and honest in living by them - for a life of deception

and dishonesty is a furtive life, in which the possibility of discovery

always clouds the horizon. Genuine acceptance of ethica~

standards is likely to mean that we feel some gUilt - or at least

that we are less pleased with ourselves than we otherwise would

be - when we do not live up to them.

These claims about the connection between our character and

our prospects of happiness are no more than hypotheses. Attempts

to confirm them by detailed research are sparse and

inadequate. A. H. Maslow, an American psychologist, asserted

that human beings have a need for self-actualisation that involves

growing towards courage, kindness, knowledge, love,

327

Practical Ethics

honesty, and unselfishness. When we fulfil this need, we feel

serene, joyful, filled with zest, sometimes euphoric, and generally

happy. When we act contrary to our need for selfactualisation,

we experience anxiety, despair, boredom, shame,

emptiness and are generally unable to enjoy ourselves. It would

be nice if Maslow should tum out to be right; unfortunately,

the data Maslow produced in support of his theory consisted of

limited studies of selected people and cannot be considered

anything more than suggestive.

Human nature is so diverse that one may doubt if any generalisation

about the kind of character that leads to happiness

could hold for all human beings. What, for instance, of those

we call 'psychopaths'? Psychiatrists use this term as a label for

a person who is asocial, impulsive, egocentric, unemotional,

lacking in feelings of remorse, shame, or guilt, and apparently

unable to form deep and enduring personal relationships. Psychopaths

are certainly abnormal, but whether it is proper to say

that they are mentally ill is another matter. At least on the

surface, they do not suffer from their condition, and it is not

obvious that it is in their interest to be 'cured'. Hervey Cleckley,

the author of a classic study of psychopathy entitled The Mask

of Sanity, notes that since his book was first published he has

received countless letters from people desperate for help - but

they are from the parents, spouses, and other relatives of psychopaths,

almost never from the psychopaths themselves. This

is not surprising, for while psychopaths are asocial and indifferent

to the welfare of others, they seem to enjoy life. Psychopaths

often appear to be charming, intelligent people, with no

delusions or other signs of irrational thinking. When interviewed

they say things like: 'A lot has happened to me, a lot

more will happen. But I enjoy living and I am always looking

forward to each day. I like laughing and I've done a lot. I am

essentially a clown at heart - but a happy one. I always take

the bad with the good.' There is no effective therapy for psychopathy,

which may be explained by the fact that psychopaths

328

Why Act Morally?

see nothing wrong with their behaviour and often find it extremely

rewarding, at least in the short term. Of course their

impulsive nature and lack of a sense of shame or guilt means

that some psychopaths end up in prison, though it is hard to

tell how many do not, since those who avoid prison are also

more likely to avoid contact with psychiatrists. Studies have

shown that a surprisingly large number of psychopaths are able

to avoid prison despite grossly antisocial behaviour, probably

because of their well-known ability to convince others that they

are truly repentant, that it will never happen again, that they

deserve another chance, and so forth.

The existence of psychopathic people counts against the contention

that benevolence, sympathy, and feelings of guilt are

present in everyone. It also appears to count against attempts

to link happiness with the possession of these inclinations. But

let us pause before we accept this latter conclusion. Must we

accept psychopaths' own evaluations of their happiness? They

are, after all, notoriously persuasive liars. Moreover, even if they

are telling the truth as they see it, are they qualified to say that

they are really happy, when they seem unable to experience

the emotional states that play such a large part in the happiness

and fulfilment of more normal people? Admittedly, a psychopath

could use the same argument against us: how can we say

that we are truly happy when we have not experienced the

excitement and freedom that comes from complete irresponsibility?

Since we cannot enter into the subjective states of psychopathic

people, nor they into ours, the dispute is not easy to

resolve.

Cleckley suggests that the psychopaths' behaviour can be explained

as a response to the meaninglessness of their lives. It is