The Objectivity of Happiness

Michael Taber
St. Mary's College of Maryland

 

Although not often carefully distinguished, there are at least three positions one may take on the relationship between happiness and satisfying one's wants:

(a)        Happiness is thinking that you have what you want.

(b)        Happiness is really having what you want.

(c)        Happiness is having what you want for and only for a certain subset of wants, namely, those the satisfaction of which contributes toward the fulfillment of your human telos.

That Aristotle's position is best captured by (c), see 1098a8-20.

Let me now try to defend Aristotle's position against (a) and against (b). I can think of four reasons to prefer Aristotle's account. [note 1]

1.         Against (a), let me suggest that we don't think that the value of, say, being respected is that if we are respected, then we usually will think that we are respected. Is it really the case that the reason S ought to be honest is that S's honesty will usually lead to S coming to believe that S is honest, and that S will accordingly feel better about herself? [note 2] We think that this misses what we take to be important, and justifiably so, let me wager, about virtues such as being respected and being honest. What we take to be important about being respected is just that others do respect us, not that we will be more likely to believe that others respect us. Is the value of me not lying to you that I can then come to believe that I did not lie to you, or does the value reside simply in the objective fact that I did not lie to you? [note 3]

An objection to my argument is that I have not yet tried to explain why it is that I want the respect or honesty; what's in it for me, if not that I will adopt certain positive beliefs about myself?

I cannot reply simply that the extra advantage to me of others' respect for me being genuine (and not illusory) is that people's actions will reflect this genuine (and not illusory) respect. That is, I cannot say that genuine respect does, while faked respect does not, make others treat you better than they otherwise would. I wish that I could say this and simply be done with it, but I can't, for consider the following thought experiment.

Let’s say Barbara thinks that an essential component of her happiness is having friends. And let’s say that she has whatever other components she thinks are important to her happiness. So given this, if she has friends, she’s happy; if she doesn’t, she’s not. Let’s further suppose that Barbara believes that she has friends, many and deep, but that it turns out that she is thoroughly mistaken. That is, Barbara's acquaintances are engaged in an elaborate and coordinated plot to deceive her into thinking that she is respected. Of course the group would then have to act as though they respect Barbara, and not simply talk as if they did. Surely Barbara is perceptive enough that she would become suspicious if the favorable talk was never expressed in favorable action; she may be duped but not dumb. And since the acquaintances are, ex hypothesi, effective deceivers, Barbara must get all the same benefits from them that she would have gotten if they had been her true friends.

Nor can I say that the deception will last only a while, though perhaps a long while, and so that the favorable actions will last only as long as the deception does. I cannot say this because, although true, Barbara may do something worthy of disrespect, yet the deception may be maintained; so there are scenarios in which genuine respect could be more ephemeral than illusory respect. An additional reason that this response is not open to me is that, as Lady Philosophy always has it, the example can be cast so that Barbara dies without ever having discovered the deception.

What I want to suggest is that far from valuing others' respect solely or even primarily as a means to acquiring the belief that others are treating us well (which is no doubt a satisfying belief to have), we value others' respect solely or at least primarily as a means to acquiring the belief that we are good people, and this matters to us because we want it to be true. This proposal is significantly different from the alternative implied by (a), for instead of the possession of a belief (namely, that I am respected) being what matters (as [a] would have it), my proposal has the truth of a belief (namely, that I am worthy of respect) as what matters. And I want that belief to be true not because its being true increases the probability that I will maintain that pleasant belief [note 4], but simply because I want to be the sort of person who is worthy of others' respect, for this is evidence (though not conclusive) that I am a good person. [note 5]

As a test for this, would you rather be respected by others and not believe that you are, or be deceived into thinking that you are respected by others? Maybe it's just me, but I would rather have the first than end up like Barbara. The reality is primary and the belief secondary.

To see this perhaps more clearly, think of love. Wouldn't you be missing something if your mate doesn't love you the way he or she says and acts? In fact, upon discovering an unfaithful act, doesn't the fact that one had been deceived add to the hurt? Surely you wouldn't think, "At least I can be glad that I was able to go so long a time under the impression that Lee was faithful to me!" Yet if what counted to you had been the mere belief that you were loved, then the fact that you had had that false belief for so long would mitigate, not exacerbate, your hurt.

 2.        As a second argument against (a), note that when we raise children, we don't raise them to gullibly believe that their wants are satisfied. But we would put a premium on such easy belief formation if all we wanted for our children was for them to believe that they are getting what they want. We try to raise them so that they learn the importance, say, of having friends or of sharing, not of thinking that they have friends or that they share.

 3.        Against (b), note that if we accepted it, then in order to make our children have the best chance of being happy, we should bring them up so that they want as few things as possible, e.g., that they don't want friends, integrity, or initiative. These are hard to get, so if our children don't want them in the first place, then they won't be disappointed by not getting them.

Our response to this line of thinking would be that such an upbringing would hinder our children, for things like friends, integrity, and initiative are some of the important things in life. And they are objectively important, whether or not I believe that they are important, for they are some of the conditions required for a full flourishing of our human nature.

 4.        Another problem with (b), and with (a), is that they fuse (and confuse) being happy with feeling happy (that is, with feeling as if I am happy). I can feel happy without being happy, just as I can feel healthy without being healthy.

Whatever else happiness is, it is something important. It is the word we use, after all, for what guides our choices, whether our own happiness, Lee's happiness, or the greatest happiness for the greatest number. Given that it is so very important, why think it synonymous for elation? Elation is a good word for that phenomenon which consists of grins, giggling, and a skip in one's step. My point here is only that there is some deeper, subtler, more profound state of a person, and name it whatever you want (I have chosen "happiness," but other good candidates would be well-being, flourishing, or even eudaimonia), it cannot be reduced to whistling merry tunes or acquiring merry beliefs.

 

Endnotes

  1. Note, however, that even if my argument is sound, it will not show that Aristotle had a true account of the relationship between happiness and the satisfaction of our wants, but rather only that it is superior to (a) and to (b). Other positions may be even better than (c). I offer no a priori argument that Aristotle's account can beat all comers. [back to text]
  2. These entailments would require, of course, the premise that a significant number of our beliefs about others' appraisals of us are true. Although debatable, I am willing to grant this premise for the sake of argument. [back to text]
  3. I think, by the way, that this point can be generalized beyond the realm of moral virtues to such morally neutral attitudes as being loved. If Romeo values Juliet's love for him only because her love causes Romeo to believe that Juliet loves him, and if ultimately it is only the formation of this belief that Romeo cares about, then Romeo is a dismal fool, and doesn't deserve two minutes' of the worthy Capulet's attention. [back to text]
  4. I do grant, however, that such probability will be increased, for I think that more than fifty-percent of my beliefs are true. On a good day, I'd wager that two thirds of them are true. My point, anyway, is that the increase in such probability is incidental to what I'm really out for. [back to text]
  5. Consider the case in which I am respected (and realize it) by people whom I know to be morally despicable. There I would not take their respect as evidence that I am a good person. In fact, if I start getting fan mail from the Society Against Working Women, then it's time for some self-examination. [back to text]

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 revised 1/99