Utilitarianism is not cold

This is a common intuition, and I don't think it is completely without foundation; but I am convinced that it is ultimately mistaken. While it might seem unconscionable to allow (e.g.) rape, murder, genocide in order to achieve some greater good, ultimately this revulsion comes from a failure of imagination regarding just how great that greater good would need to be. To justify a genocide, it would not be enough that the world would be better off without the targeted group; rather, it would have to be that without the genocide a far more terrible outcome would have occurred, like the total destruction of human civilization. Further, there must have been no other way to prevent such a terrible outcome---otherwise we ought to take that other path.

There is a kind of utilitarianism that is cold; the most naive Benthamite act-utilitarianism seems quite cold. If all we are measuring is subjective pleasure versus subjective pain, we ignore not only aesthetics and honesty, but indeed autonomy and death! To a Benthamite utilitarian, a painless death is morally neutral, and there is nothing wrong with benevolent slavery. Indeed, under such a philosophy something like the Matrix---a false but pleasant reality imposed upon us through delusion---is not only permissible, but good; it may even be obligatory. This seems quite cold indeed, but it is dangerously close to a straw man; no serious modern utilitarian would defend these notions. Indeed, nearly all utilitarians today agree with John Stuart Mill, and adopt a system of consequences that includes not only pleasure and pain simpliciter, but also the "pleasure" of aesthetics, the "pain" of fearing death, the "pleasure" of autonomy, the "pain" of dishonesty. One could argue that these experiences aren't really pleasure and pain, but in fact something broader, like attractive and aversive emotions generally (in fact, I would argue precisely this); but the point remains that serious utilitarianism today considers this broad range of experiences and not a simplistic calculation of subjective pleasure versus subjective pain. If the sense of coldness came from Benthamite utilitarianism, basically the argument is one of guilt by association.

Moreover, it seems to me that the other moral theories on offer are not only just as cold---they are in fact significantly colder. They value the wrong things, and turn a blind eye to suffering when preventing it would require us to sacrifice our moral righteousness.

In the first case, virtue theory values something like "human flourishing" or a "completeness of character" above all else. As such, a virtue theorist is committed to saying that if I must allow a million people to suffer and die in order to preserve my completeness of character, I not only may do so, in fact I ought to do so---it would be wrong of me to sacrifice my character to save that million people. What could be colder than that?

In the second case, deontology demands that we obey moral rules under all circumstances, without exception or hesitation. A deontologist is committed to saying that we must never break the rules---never kill an innocent person, or in Kant's infamous case, never even tell a lie---regardless of how many people must suffer as a result. Pacifism is a particularly extreme deontology in which the rule is literally "thou shalt not kill"; killing human beings is absolutely forbidden regardless of the circumstances. It's not hard to see how a nation of pacifists would be rapidly invaded and exploited by foreign powers.In essence, deontology values clean hands over all else: Regardless of whom it hurts, I must never dirty my hands with evil actions. This doesn't seem as cold as virtue theory, but it still seems quite cold!

On the other hand, one could devise a virtue theory or deontology that didn't have such terrible consequences; the most obvious way would be to define the virtues and rules such that they are based upon the predicted consequences. But once we've done this, aren't we really talking about utilitarianism anyway? If "virtue" is that which will make one likely to do good, and the "rules" are heuristics that are likely to produce good outcomes---that's utilitarianism! It's a nuanced Millian sort of utilitarianism, but that's what utilitarians have been advocating anyway.

Virulent Senioritis

It could just be luck: The infection and subsequent recovery triggered my depression, which triggered my migraines; the combination of the three and the resulting loss of attendance and focus has damaged my academic success. I have ambitious research plans that are difficult to achieve, and I reasonably expected better support in my research than I actually received; thereby I became discouraged.

But it could also be subconscious or semi-conscious intentions on my part. I stand before a crossroads in my life, with many options laid out before me. I could go on to graduate school; I could join the Peace Corps; I could seek a teaching fellowship; I could combine these things through Peace Corps Master's International; I could take a year off to finish my book; and there are thousands of other options I might sometimes be tempted to consider but would generally consider less viable.

And in the face of all these options, I am afraid, or anxious,or some similar aversive emotion. I fear that I will make the wrong choice, or that I won't be given the opportunity I deserve. I feel as a tiny kayak on a fast and forking river, trying desperately to choose my course as I am swept ahead. I feel that I need time to consider these options, time to reflect upon my true goals and aspirations, time to plan my future. And yet I am not being given this time; the hours and days and months carry me relentlessly closer to graduation.

"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans" said John Lennon, and a month later he'd been murdered. I am continually reminded of this thought, because it is so troubling to me. I don't want my life to be so random, so far beyond my control.

I want time to think about what I want to do in my life; I want time to develop deeper theories of the Hard Problem; I want time to write my books. I want to shunt a log across the river so that I can plan my course.

I'm not sure this is a reasonable desire; life goes on regardless of what we want. Yet at the same time, I see so many people around me with no plans, no dreams, simply carried forth into lives in which they will ultimately be unhappy and unfulfilled. Worse, even if they are happy, they are unlikely to achieve great good in the world; some might be satisfied with helping only those near to them, but I feel a deep drive to achieve something great, something lasting. In order to do that I need to seriously reflect upon the best path for myself.

Perhaps I should take the next semester off? That's the closest I can see to shunting the river. I could spend the winter of 2010 reflecting, then come back in 2010-2011 to finish my degree. This feels unappealing to me... I think this is primarily because it seems "weak" or like "surrender". I feel as if I am giving in to my anxiety—or even to my depression. I am "losing" some sort of "battle".

Alternatively, with significant effort I could psych myself back to full potential, finish my degree in time. This latter plan raises additional questions: Should I cancel my honors thesis? What should I do after graduation—and shouldn't I be applying to these things now?

Increasingly I'm thinking time off is warranted. I'd need to make sure that I use the time—that it isn't just wasted—but I think I could do that. The sense of "weakness" or "surrender" increasingly seems a poor reason for choosing a particular direction in my life. Indeed, I feel a sense of relief simply from proposing the option: Even if I ultimately decide not to do so, I have found a way to shunt the river. Will my parents be disappointed? Will others think less of me? Possibly—though not necessarily. And even if I make the wrong choice, there will be time to change that decision—many people change careers well into middle age. I could stay on this path now and change later.

Yet this is my life, and my life's direction that I am trying to decide. I want to do it right the first time. My autonomy here is not negotiable. In the absence of some foolish fantasy of divine destiny, autonomy in planning our lives is essential to fulfillment. Achieving what I want means knowing what I want and planning appropriately. I should not sacrifice that autonomy for the sake of some mild and transient disapproval.

CFI hosted a speaker tonight.

A truly excellent analysis of theology

Orthogonal versus independent: The linear algebra of truth

What these philosophers seem to mean is that the concepts are independent, that when one changes it is not logically necessary that the other change as well. This is no doubt correct; but orthogonal is a far stronger notion than this, one which has not at all been demonstrated.

Two vectors are (linearly) independent if they are not parallel or antiparallel; similarly, two concepts are independent if they are not perfectly correlated or anticorrelated. Determinism and free will, subjectivism and relativism, science and religion, are surely independent.

But two vectors are only orthogonal if they are perpendicular, if they share no linear components whatsoever. Similarly, two concepts should only be considered orthogonal if they are completely uncorrelated. This is difficult to find in nature, though it does occur---typically in completely unrelated domains. Belief in free will is basically orthogonal to theoretical claims about dark matter.

Clearly determinism and free will are not completely uncorrelated---in theory and in practice beliefs about determinism are closely connected with beliefs about free will. Similarly, subjectivism and relativism are closely correlated, and belief in science and belief in religion are strongly anticorrelated (hence, 95% of the National Academy of Sciences is atheist or agnostic).

It's not a big deal, I suppose; but I think more consistent usage might alleviate some confusion. When one person says "orthogonal" and another objects that the two concepts aren't completely unrelated, and the first responds that this isn't what he meant... basically the two are talking past each other until both can agree about what "orthogonal" really means.