Deontology and utilitarianism are two sets of theories that attempt to answer the question: how should I (we/you) act? They are the most famous of the four sets of theories that try to give us rules for ethical action in any circumstances (the other two being virtue and care ethics). Because they are theories that concern which actions are right, and which are wrong, they are known as normative theories.
There’s a lot in a name. “Normative” simply means something relating to norms. You know, as in, what is normal to do; it’s the norm to celebrate on your birthday; if your school has uniforms, then the rule “wear a uniform” is also a norm. And the names of our normative theories, deontology and utilitiarianism, also help explain what they’re all about.
“Utilitarianism” is a theory based on utility. The word “utility” comes from the same root as the word “useful.” In America, when people say they can use something, they sometimes say “utilize.” And when you or your parents pay for useful services around the house, such as having electricity, gas or water supplied, these services are known as “utilities,” well, because they are useful.
So utilitarianism is a normative theory based on the concept of usefulness, or utility. There are lots of funny stories about the two men who first started writing properly about utilitarianism as a theory. They were both eccentric men who lived in the 18th and 19th century. In fact, they knew each other quite well; the older one, who was known as Jeremy Bentham, was a good friend of the younger one’s father. The younger philosopher’s name was John Stuart Mill.
Bentham thought that what really matters in life is pleasure and pain. He thought that everything else could be reduced to these two sensations. But what about love? Well, Bentham would reply, love is pleasurable, and that is all there is to it, unless it is a love-hate relationship. But what about losing a family member in an accident? Well, that’s just another form of pain, says Bentham.
Bentham had a great idea, and that idea formed the basis of utilitarianism as a normative (norm-based) theory. The idea is simple. It starts like this.
You know how pleasurable or painful any given action and its consequences are, or at least you have a pretty good guess.Pleasure = utilityPain = disutility, the opposite of utilityWhen considering an action, you should weigh up all the utility that will result, then subtract all the disutility (pain), to get an overall utility score.You should consider the impact of the consequences on all sentient creatures. If an animal feels pain or pleasure, it counts for just as much as a human’s, because what matters is the utility, not the human or animal in question.You should do this for all the possible actions.Then, the right thing to do is the one that has the highest overall utility score.
There are a couple of interesting things to notice here. If Bentham is correct, then, firstly, nothing except for pleasure minus pain matters – nothing else could be ethically relevant! Honor, achievement, good grades, manners, skills, hobbies, forests, unicorns – none of this matters except for the amount of utility (pleasure) or disutility (pain) it represents. Because only one thing matters for Bentham’s ethics, his theory is called a monistic theory – “mono” is ancient greek for “one”. It is a theory where only one thing matters: achieving the maximum utility.
Now you may be thinking, “hang on a minute! Does he really thing that everything – my love for my cat and my parents -- can simply be converted into utility? But my cat is so different from the pleasure I get from cookies? And is it really true that all pleasure is equally good? We all know about ‘guilty pleasures,’ and my parents are always telling me I should read a book or go to a theater instead of watching Family Guy. So, can I tell them that it’s unethical for me to read a book because the cartoon gives me more pleasure?”
Bentham really thought these things. He thought anything at all could be calculated and converted into utility. He also though that there was no difference between the various types of pleasures. He said: “Prejudice apart, the game of push-pin is of equal value with the arts and sciences of music and poetry. If the game of push-pin furnished more pleasure, it is more valuable than either.” Push-pin is a simple board-game people used to play. Bentham is saying that, if the utility you get from games is greater than what you get from music or science or art, then you should play those games.
This is where we introduce our second character. John Stuart Mill was a generation younger than Bentham, but the two knew each other well. John’s father was a learned man with great ambition for his children. He tutored John Jr. intently for hours a day, and also hired famous professors and teachers for John Jr. By the time he was three years old, he could read ancient Greek. When he turned eight, he had read most of the ancient Greek literature and started on Latin. Around the same time he composed a poetic continuation of the Iliad, the oldest Western book. He was studying University courses at the age of fourteen, and learned about science in his spare time. Definitely a clever guy.
Anyway, although John agreed with his father’s buddy Bentham’s overall idea, he had some issues with the details. For example, John didn’t agree that all pleasures were created equal. He thought that there were “higher” and “lower” pleasures. The higher pleasures were such things as good theatre, museums, Mozart, classical learning, ballet and so on – you get what I mean. The lower pleasures were often more associated with the rest of the body than the head. They were things like alcohol, sex (outside of wedlock), simple games, and winning an unnecessary fight. John drew a sharp distinction here. In fact, he went all the way: no amount, he said, of the lower pleasures, can ever equal even the smallest bit of the higher pleasures. The opera, even if it is a rather mediocre one, will always be better than any amount of fun with your mates at the bar or at bowling.
There was another thing about Bentham’s work that bothered John. Whereas Bentham had counted every creature as relevant to his utility calculations, John thought that the utility of some creatures counted for less than others. Let’s say we have a nice steak in front of us, and you’ve brought along your dog: for Bentham, it makes no difference at all who eats the steak – you or your dog – as long as it brings equal pleasure (utility) to you both. John would disagree. He’d say that the dog was less capable of appreciating the pleasure. As humans, we can savour the taste better and remember it for longer. Besides, as humans, we need the sustenance more, because we can many more helpful things in the world than your dog can (no offence).
So, to sum up: Bentham and John Stuart Mill are credited with inventing and developing utilitarianism. Utilitarianism is a theory which states that only one thing—utility—is relevant to ethical decisions. The option that produces the greatest utility is the only ethical option. However, there are many different versions of utilitarianism, because not everyone agrees on what “utility” really means (well-being? Happiness? Fulfillment? Satisfaction?), or whose utility we need to take into account. Nevertheless, it is a simple theory: find out what the option is that produces the maximum utility, then act on it. The difficulty lies in figuring out what utility is and which option has the most of it.
Deontology is also a normative theory. That means, if you remember, that it is a theory about what is or should be the norm, in other words, what kind of actions should be taken, and why. Like utilitarianism, it is also a monistic theory – it relies, ultimately, on only one criterion. But unlike utilitarianism, this criterion is not pleasure, pain, or well-being, but rather duty.
“Deon” is ancient Greek for “duty”. Just like bio-logy – biology – is the study of living things (“bio”), so “deontology” is the study of duty.
Deontologists believe that duties override everything else. They recognize the importance of utility, of course, and are just a likely as anybody else to play games or eat ice cream. But at the end of the day, utility is not all that matters to them.
So what are these duties? A duty is a responsibility, an obligation, a binding commitment. They can come in different types. For example, your parents have a duty to bring you to school. That’s both a legal and a moral duty. You also have a duty not to hurt people. That’s also both a legal and a moral duty. But legal and moral duties are not always the same. Imagine you have been in a car crash. You and your friend are hurt. There is no signal, so no ambulance can reach you. In front of you there is a car, and somebody has left their keys in it. You have a moral duty to bring my bleeding friend to the hospital. That requires you to steal the car. You also have a legal duty not to steal the car. In this case, the moral duty is stronger, because your friend’s life is infinitely more important than the car.
The most famous deontologist was a Prussian guy called Immanuel Kant. He was immensely clever, but he was a hardliner when it came to ethics. Kant established a complicated system of duties. He thought that these duties followed logically from the nature of our rationality and existence – but that’s a story for another time.
After hundreds of pages of writing, Kant believed he had established a logically water-tight system of duties. Some duties were imperfect; this meant they could be overridden by more important matters. But some duties were perfect duties: these should absolutely, under no circumstances, ever, fail to be carried out.
There is a famous story dating back to the times of Socrates. It goes as follows. We all know that lying is wrong. But if a crazy-looking man shows up at your doorstep with an axe, and asks if you know where Alex is (Alex is hiding under your bed), would it still be wrong to lie?
A utilitarian would say no. The utility of lying is that your friend lives, which is greater than whatever satisfaction the crazy man gets from his murderous axe. But Kant would say yes. You have a perfect duty not to lie. No matter how many people suffer or die; all of this is irrelevant. Your duty comes first.
Of course, Kant would advocate getting rid of the guy in another way, by misdirection or trickery, but never by telling a direct lie. That’s because duty trumps utility and everything else, at least according to Kant. There are many other deontologists, but that’s also a story for another time.
For now, let’s summarize. Utilitarianism and deontology are normative theories: they tell us what is right and what is wrong. They are also monistic: utilitarians care only about utility, and deontologists only about duty. Utility is defined as whatever is good. Bentham thought it was as simple as pleasure and pain. John Stuart Mill said some pleasures were better than others. Modern philosophers have all kinds of different ideas about what utility might be. But the basic idea is that we should calculate the consequences of our actions, and then select the one that will make the world a better (the best) place. For deontologists, duty comes first. It doesn’t matter how much pain it will cause, the duty must be fulfilled.
Final example: imagine you are an Air Force Commander. There is a plane. You know it has been hijacked by terrorists. It is flying straight at a government building. Hundreds of people will die, many of them top officials whose work is important. You have the choice: shoot the plane down before it reaches its target, or do nothing. This is a real case—it happened in Germany.
For the utilitarian, the answer is clear: shoot down the plane. The people on board will die anyway. Many people will survive that otherwise would have died. Shooting the plane has more utility than not doing so.
For a deontologist like Kant, the answer is also clear: let the plane fly. You have a perfect duty not to take an innocent person’s life, and there are many innocents on board. It doesn’t matter that many more people will die because of this choice, because you still have a duty not to kill, and that hasn’t changed. This is in fact what the German court decided.
24095 Views
See similar Philosophy and Ethics A Level tutors