Despite the vast differences in the interests of Pat and Lee, both act morally, and neither harms anyone. Furthermore, Pat shows concern for colleagues and students, while Lee is kind to friends and donates generously to worthy causes. Indeed, were Pat and Lee unethical, they would not be living well.
To speak, as Harry Frankfurt does, of Nazism offering its leaders a “complex, exhilarating, and rewarding life”
1 is unconvincing. Value cannot be found in doing unmitigated evil. Nor, as Richard Taylor apparently overlooks, can the desire to act immorally provide the basis for a good life. Fame and fortune may come to those who are immoral, but their lives do not deserve to be judged positively by anyone with moral compunctions.
How is acting morally connected to achieving happiness? Some philosophers, echoing Plato, have argued that those who are moral are happy, and those who are happy are moral.
Among the many who believe happiness depends on a commitment to morality is Philippa Foot. While she finds happiness “a most intractable concept,” she defends the claim that “great happiness, unlike euphoria or even great pleasure, must come from something related to what is deep in human nature, and fundamental in human life, such as affection for children and friends, the desire to work, and love of freedom and truth.”
2 Thus she believes immorality precludes happiness. We, however, are not persuaded by her claim and offer the following counterexample.
Consider Fred, a fictitious person but an amalgamation of several individuals we have known. Fred’s life has been devoted to achieving three aims: fame, wealth, and a reputation for probity. He has no interest whatsoever in friends or truth. Indeed, he is treacherous and thoroughly dishonest. Nevertheless, he has attained his three goals and is, in fact, a rich celebrity renowned for his supposed integrity. His acquiring a good name while acting unscrupulously is a tribute to his audacity, cunning, and luck. Now he rests self-satisfied: basking in renown, delighting in luxuries, and relishing praise for his reputed commitment to the highest moral standards.
That he enjoys great pleasure, even euphoria, is undeniable. According to Foot, however, he is not happy. We rather would say that we are not happy with him. We do not wish to see shallowness and hypocrisy rewarded. Indeed, while numerous works of literature describe good persons who are doomed to failure, few works tell of evil persons who ultimately triumph. (An exception to the rule is Natasha in Chekov’s The Three Sisters, a play that causes anguish to most audiences.)
We can define “happiness” so as to falsify the claim that Fred is happy. This philosophical “sleight-of-hand,” though, accomplishes little, for Fred is wholly contented, suffering no worries or anxieties. Indeed, he is smug as he revels in his exalted position.
Surely Fred is happy. Perhaps later in life he won’t be. Or perhaps he will. He may come to the end of his days as happy as he is now. That prospect affords us no comfort but may nevertheless come to pass. (Incidentally, the name “Fred,” to which we shall refer occasionally, can be remembered as an acronym derived from the words “fame,” “riches,” “esteem,” and “deceit.”)
Not all philosophers agree with us that Fred is happy. They admit he is “feeling happy”
3 or is “happy in some limited way,”
4 but they deny he is “truly happy”
5 or has attained “real happiness.”
6To be sure, language can be revised to suit our purposes. In the memorable words of Humpty Dumpty, “When
I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”
7 Thus if any philosopher wishes to use the word “happiness” in a special way, reserving it for situations in which a person who is deeply satisfied with life is also virtuous, then that philosopher is free to engage in linguistic revision. Doing, so, however, can easily mislead, for when an ordinary word is given a nonstandard use, those who hear it are apt to suppose that the word means what it usually means, thus leading to confusion.
Suppose, for instance, you are told that a student is happy to be enrolled in a particular college. Ordinarily we would infer from that statement that the student likes attending the college but not that the student has earned high grades. We could decide, of course, that students are to be considered happy at college only if they receive high grades, but such non-standard usage would lead to perplexity, as people would wonder why a student without high grades could not be happy at college.
One historical reason why some philosophers may suppose happiness requires moral behavior is that Aristotle in his Nicomachean Ethics claims that eudaimonia, a Greek word often translated as “happiness,” can be achieved only by virtuous activity, the fulfillment of the best aspect of human nature. Hence an immoral person cannot be happy, because that person has not attained the finest end for humanity. (Later in the Nicomachean Ethics Aristotle maintains that the best life for a human being is a life of contemplation, thus giving rise to the scholarly issue of how to reconcile Aristotle’s two accounts of happiness. We accept the truth of neither, so for us the issue is moot.)
To translate
eudaimonia as “happiness,” however, is misleading, precisely because the English word “happiness” does not imply good intentions or virtuous action. Perhaps
eudaimonia would better be understood as pertaining to “admirable activity,” because the English word “admirable” has implications of worthiness. Happiness, however, is only worthy if its source is worthy. An unethical person may find happiness in immoral actions; indeed, deriving satisfaction from deeds that lack compassion is the essence of immorality. Some people, unfortunately, lack regard for anyone else, but to claim they are not only immoral but unhappy is misleading, suggesting that they find no satisfaction in their behavior, even if they do.
Instead, we shall use the term “happiness” in its ordinary sense, referring to a state of contentment in which an individual is not disquieted or disturbed but has found deep satisfaction. In this sense a person can be more or less happy, happier at one time than another, happy regardless of level of intelligence, happy and moral, or happy and immoral.
Why have so many philosophers, past and present, been loath to admit the last possibility, that of a happy immoralist? We believe they rightly regard the concept as a threat to morality. For the greater the divergence between morality and happiness, the greater the loss of motivation to choose the moral path. Trying to define the happy immoralist out of existence is one way to reach a preferred conclusion.
Despite such linguistic reform, however, the wicked may prosper and find contentment while doing so. Moreover, the good may suffer and find unhappiness. Few philosophers follow Plato in trying to argue against the latter claim. Indeed, the travails of the righteous are, as we indicated, a common theme in literature.
Perhaps the most famous example is found in the Book of Job. Here Job, a man of exemplary piety and extraordinary good fortune, is the subject of a wager between God and Satan. The latter scoffs at Job’s devoutness, claiming that Job is obedient to God only because God has given Job good health, a fine family, and untold wealth. Although God testifies to Job’s goodness, God permits Satan to test Job by causing him to suffer the severest personal losses. Suddenly all ten of Job’s children die, and his wealth is destroyed. When Job does not relinquish his faith in God, Satan, claiming that Job has maintained his faith only because his own body has been spared, obtains further permission from God to inflict on Job a painful disease.
Job’s friends believe Job is suffering as a result of having sinned, because they believe that God does not punish the innocent. Yet readers know that in this case such is exactly what has happened. When God eventually appears to answer Job’s cries for an explanation of these events, God doesn’t reveal the truth—that Job was the subject of a bet with Satan—but emphasizes, instead, the utter insignificance of humanity and its inability to understand the workings of the Almighty. Job is overawed. Then God rebukes Job’s friends for the erroneous advice they offered, and heals Job, restoring to him twice as much wealth as he had possessed before his misfortunes, and blessing him with ten children and a long and happy life. Of course, the ten children who are given to Job at the end of the story may to some extent compensate Job for his previous losses, but the dead children are not compensated. They are not restored to life.
In sum, the Book of Job stands opposed to the prevailing theology of much of the rest of the Hebrew Bible. The doctrine of retributive justice, presented in Deuteronomy, Psalms, Proverbs, and elsewhere, states that a pious person will be rewarded with wealth and happiness; a sinner will suffer both economic and physical adversity. The Book of Job is a criticism of this supposition.
Even readers who may offer a different interpretation of the story of Job do not deny that bad things may happen to good people. Similarly, good things may happen to bad people. Such is the case of Fred.
