DebateLabKIT/deepa2-corpus · Datasets at Hugging Face

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characteristic of psychopaths to work for a while at a job and
then just when their ability and charm have taken them to the
crest of success, commit some petty and easily detectable crime.
A similar pattern occurs in their personal relationships. (There
is support to be found here for Thomas Nagel's account of im-
329
Practical Ethics
prudence as rational only if one fails to see oneself as a person
existing over time, with the present merely one among other
times one will live through. Certainly psychopathic people live
largely in the present and lack any coherent life plan.)
Cleckley explains this erratic and to us inadequately motivated
behaviour by likening the psychopath's life to that of
children forced to sit through a performance of King Lear. Children
are restless and misbehave under these conditions because
they cannot enjoy the playas adults do. They act to relieve
boredom. Similarly, Cleckley says, psychopaths are bored because
their emotional poverty means that they cannot take interest
in, or gain satisfaction from, what for others are the most
important things in life: love, family, success in business or
professional life, and the like. These things simply do not matter
to them. Their unpredictable and antisocial behaviour is an
attempt to relieve what would otherwise be a tedious existence.
These claims are speculative and Cleckley admits that they may
not be possible to establish scientifically. They do suggest, however,
an aspect of the psychopath's life that undermines the
otherwise attractive nature of the psychopath's free-wheeling
life. Most reflective people, at some time or other, want their
life to have some kind of meaning. Few of us could deliberately
choose a way of life that we regarded as utterly meaningless.
For this reason most of us would not choose to live a psychopathic
life, however enjoyable it might be.
Yet there is something paradoxical about criticising the psychopath's
life for its meaninglessness. Don't we have to accept,
in the absence of religious belief, that life really is meaningless,
not just for the psychopath but for all of us? And if this is so,
why should we not choose - if it were in our power to choose
our personality - the life of a psychopath? But is it true that,
religion aside, life is meaningless? Now our pursuit of reasons
for acting morally has led us to what is often regarded as the
ultimate philosophical question.
330
Why Act Morally?
HAS LIFE A MEANING?
In what sense does rejection of belief in a god imply rejection
of the view that life has any meaning? If this world had been
created by some divine being with a particular goal in mind, it
could be said to have a meaning, at least for that divine being.
If we could know what the divine being's purpose in creating
us was, we could then know what the meaning of our life was
for our creator. If we accepted our creator's purpose (though
why we should do that would need to be explained) we could
claim to know the meaning of life.
When we reject belief in a god we must give up the idea that
life on this planet has some preordained meaning. Life as a whole
has no meaning. Life began, as the best available theories tell
us, in a chance combination of molecules; it then evolved
through random mutations and natural selection. All this just
happened; it did not happen for any overall purpose. Now that
it has resulted in the existence of beings who prefer some states
of affairs to others, however, it may be possible for particular
lives to be meaningful. In this sense atheists can find meaning
in life.
Let us return to the comparison between the life of a psychopath
and that of a more normal person. Why should the
psychopath's life not be meaningful? We have seen that psychopaths
are egocentric to an extreme: neither other people,
nor worldly success, nor anything else really matters to them.
But why is their own enjoyment of life not sufficient to give
meaning to their lives?
Most of us would not be able to find happiness by deliberately
setting out to enjoy ourselves without caring about anyone or
anything else. The pleasures we obtained in that way would
seem empty and would soon pall. We seek a meaning for our
lives beyond our own pleasures and find fulfilment and happiness
in doing what we see to be meaningful. If our life has
331
Practical Ethics
no meaning other than our own happiness, we are likely to find
that when we have obtained what we think we need to be
happy, happiness itself still eludes us.
That those who aim at happiness for happiness's sake often
fail to find it, while others find happiness in pursuing altogether
different goals, has been called 'the paradox of hedonism'. It is
not, of course, a logical paradox but a claim about the way in
which we come to be happy. Like other generalisations on this
subject, it lacks empirical confirmation. Yet it matches our everyday
observations and is consistent with our nature as evolved,
purposive beings. Human beings survive and reproduce themselves
through purposive action. We obtain happiness and fulfilment
by working towards and achieving our goals. In
evolutionary terms we could say that happiness functions as an
internal reward for our achievements. Subjectively, we regard
achieving the goal (or progressing towards it) as a reason for
happiness. Our own happiness, therefore, is a by-product of
aiming at something else, and not to be obtained by setting our
sights on happiness alone.
The psychopath's life can now be seen to be meaningless in
a way that a normal life is not. It is meaningless because it looks
inward to the pleasures of the present moment and not outward

characteristic of psychopaths to work for a while at a job and

then just when their ability and charm have taken them to the

crest of success, commit some petty and easily detectable crime.

A similar pattern occurs in their personal relationships. (There

is support to be found here for Thomas Nagel's account of im-

329

Practical Ethics

prudence as rational only if one fails to see oneself as a person

existing over time, with the present merely one among other

times one will live through. Certainly psychopathic people live

largely in the present and lack any coherent life plan.)

Cleckley explains this erratic and to us inadequately motivated

behaviour by likening the psychopath's life to that of

children forced to sit through a performance of King Lear. Children

are restless and misbehave under these conditions because

they cannot enjoy the playas adults do. They act to relieve

boredom. Similarly, Cleckley says, psychopaths are bored because

their emotional poverty means that they cannot take interest

in, or gain satisfaction from, what for others are the most

important things in life: love, family, success in business or

professional life, and the like. These things simply do not matter

to them. Their unpredictable and antisocial behaviour is an

attempt to relieve what would otherwise be a tedious existence.

These claims are speculative and Cleckley admits that they may

not be possible to establish scientifically. They do suggest, however,

an aspect of the psychopath's life that undermines the

otherwise attractive nature of the psychopath's free-wheeling

life. Most reflective people, at some time or other, want their

life to have some kind of meaning. Few of us could deliberately

choose a way of life that we regarded as utterly meaningless.

For this reason most of us would not choose to live a psychopathic

life, however enjoyable it might be.

Yet there is something paradoxical about criticising the psychopath's

life for its meaninglessness. Don't we have to accept,

in the absence of religious belief, that life really is meaningless,

not just for the psychopath but for all of us? And if this is so,

why should we not choose - if it were in our power to choose

our personality - the life of a psychopath? But is it true that,

religion aside, life is meaningless? Now our pursuit of reasons

for acting morally has led us to what is often regarded as the

ultimate philosophical question.

330

Why Act Morally?

HAS LIFE A MEANING?

In what sense does rejection of belief in a god imply rejection

of the view that life has any meaning? If this world had been

created by some divine being with a particular goal in mind, it

could be said to have a meaning, at least for that divine being.

If we could know what the divine being's purpose in creating

us was, we could then know what the meaning of our life was

for our creator. If we accepted our creator's purpose (though

why we should do that would need to be explained) we could

claim to know the meaning of life.

When we reject belief in a god we must give up the idea that

life on this planet has some preordained meaning. Life as a whole

has no meaning. Life began, as the best available theories tell

us, in a chance combination of molecules; it then evolved

through random mutations and natural selection. All this just

happened; it did not happen for any overall purpose. Now that

it has resulted in the existence of beings who prefer some states

of affairs to others, however, it may be possible for particular

lives to be meaningful. In this sense atheists can find meaning

in life.

Let us return to the comparison between the life of a psychopath

and that of a more normal person. Why should the

psychopath's life not be meaningful? We have seen that psychopaths

are egocentric to an extreme: neither other people,

nor worldly success, nor anything else really matters to them.

But why is their own enjoyment of life not sufficient to give

meaning to their lives?

Most of us would not be able to find happiness by deliberately

setting out to enjoy ourselves without caring about anyone or

anything else. The pleasures we obtained in that way would

seem empty and would soon pall. We seek a meaning for our

lives beyond our own pleasures and find fulfilment and happiness

in doing what we see to be meaningful. If our life has

331

Practical Ethics

no meaning other than our own happiness, we are likely to find

that when we have obtained what we think we need to be

happy, happiness itself still eludes us.

That those who aim at happiness for happiness's sake often

fail to find it, while others find happiness in pursuing altogether

different goals, has been called 'the paradox of hedonism'. It is

not, of course, a logical paradox but a claim about the way in

which we come to be happy. Like other generalisations on this

subject, it lacks empirical confirmation. Yet it matches our everyday

observations and is consistent with our nature as evolved,

purposive beings. Human beings survive and reproduce themselves

through purposive action. We obtain happiness and fulfilment

by working towards and achieving our goals. In

evolutionary terms we could say that happiness functions as an

internal reward for our achievements. Subjectively, we regard

achieving the goal (or progressing towards it) as a reason for

happiness. Our own happiness, therefore, is a by-product of

aiming at something else, and not to be obtained by setting our

sights on happiness alone.

The psychopath's life can now be seen to be meaningless in

a way that a normal life is not. It is meaningless because it looks

inward to the pleasures of the present moment and not outward