Mill believed that morally-right action was that which tended to increase happiness and diminish misery. The short treatise Utilitarianism opens with a straightforward statement of the Benthamite axiom that happiness consists in the acquisition of pleasures and the avoidance of pains. However, Mill was careful to stress that pleasures are not all of equal worth, and that the happiest lives involve the deeper satisfactions of “spiritual perfection” and personal dignity, and the pursuit of beauty, order and truth. For utilitarianism to escape the charge that its hedonistic theory of value showed it to be a “doctrine worthy only of swine”, it was crucial to emphasise that the quality of one’s pleasures was of more importance than their quantity. In fact Mill sounds almost Aristotelian when he enjoins his readers to satisfy their “elevated” faculties in preference to their “animal appetites”, and to strive to develop excellence of mind and character. His subtle analysis of the nature of happiness served to raise the utilitarian theory of value permanently above the level of a simplistic hedonism. Mill argued that happiness is best sought by energetically pursuing worthwhile ends, and that those who look only to gratify their sensual appetites miss out on more valuable satisfactions. Pleasures of “mere sensation” are far less able to fulfil us than those of “the intellect, of the feelings and imagination, and of the moral sentiments”. Nevertheless, when helping others to live well, we should beware of imposing our own concepts of happiness, however fine, on them. Well-meaning but heavy-handed paternalistic interventions in others’ lives are not always beneficial, and may seriously restrict their objects’ scope for self-development. Duly respecting other people’s individuality requires knowing when to stand back, as well as when to intervene.
Mill believed that the “principle of utility” could be proved by the empirical observation that people seek happiness. Yet the fact that everyone desires happiness does not really establish that happiness is desirable (even if, on other grounds, we think it is). Nor is it possible to justify an impartial concern for the happiness of all on the basis of the partial concern of each individual for her own happiness; so there is a sleight of hand in Mill’s argument that since “each person’s happiness is a good to that person, the general happiness is, therefore, a good to the aggregate of all persons”. Despite this logical lacuna, Mill’s version of utilitarianism is attractive for its grounding in a demystified and naturalistic account of human flourishing, which in eschewing appeals to any dubious faculty of moral intuition is of a piece with his general philosophy.
The significant place that Mill accorded to self-development and autonomy in the good life is apparent too in the famous thesis of the essay ‘On Liberty’ that “the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection”. The best way, he explained, by which states can maximise happiness is by providing the social, cultural and economic conditions under which citizens can live their lives according to their own ideas of the good. Wise governments would treat everyone as equal under the law, and subordinate no one’s interests to anyone else’s. They would also guarantee freedom of expression (so that good ideas were given the chance to drive out bad ones) and promote educational opportunities.
Mill argued that the idea Professor Copleston spotted, ‘if we wish to discriminate between different pleasures without introducing any standard or criterion other than pleasure itself, the principle of discrimination can only be quantitative’, of higher pleasures is directly related to his idea of human freedom. The higher pleasures are found in forms of different lives and activities but they all depend on the development of human autonomy and freedom. Autonomous thought and action is a necessary feature of the life of a man who enjoys the higher pleasures.
To conclude, the best example of Mill’s version of Utilitarianism is summed up when describing the difference between Mill and Bentham’s form of Utilitarianism in a well-known example called ‘the Haydn and the Oyster’ example: You are a soul in heaven waiting to be allocated a life on earth, when your turn comes to chose a life you are offered two choices- the composer Joseph Haydn, or an oyster. Haydn will experience success, honor, compose wonderful music, be popular, travel, gain enjoyment from field sports. The oyster will have a far less exciting life, mild sensual pleasure, like a human floating drunk in a warm bath. There is a catch though – Haydn will die aged 77, but the angel says she will let the oyster live as long as you want.
Mill would still take Haydn’s life, Bentham the oyster. This is because of the length of the life the oyster would have would be a measure in the pleasure/happiness calculation. Whereas Mill would put more emphasis on the prominence of human life and so even if the oyster would live for all eternity its pleasure would never be able to outweigh Haydn’s.
Mill recognized that some pleasures were so valuable that they would be preferred by those who had experienced both these “high” pleasures and lesser pleasures. This distinction is not, however, clearly and there is confusion of who could be a judge qualified enough to account for whether a pleasure is deemed high or low (can be seen as elitist). And it also fails to account for subjectivity of pleasure that an act gives to someone. For instance poetry may be deemed a higher pleasure than paintballing, but does this really mean that someone will get more pleasure out of poetry than paintballing? Mill’s higher pleasures, however, did imply a degree of intellect and education behind them, and it is because of this that the human pleasures would always be higher than that of the oysters.
