On the Question of Intent and the Illusion of Altruism

No matter how hard I try, I keep coming back to the idea of intent and morality. What is it that really motivates our actions? How are our intentions connected to our actions? Can a morally wrong act be a good thing, or conversely, can something good be wrong? It's easy to think about intent when we think of classic "thought experiment" cases like murder or genocide. With few exceptions, there are very few people who would be on board for carrying out whole-scale or even small-scale murder. There are those cases where we have some difficulty deciding how to act -- for instance, whether we should blast a fat man to kingdom come if he has wedged his body in front of the only exit. We might have some difficulty when we say we must blow him up to save the lives of others. But then, there are those instances when we might think that the morally right thing to do is the worst thing to do. It's especially difficult when we are not exactly sure of what our own intentions are in the matter. Is there ever a time when a moral wrong is ok? Are there times when our intentions may be bad but they are really good? It's easy to calculate the moral wrong of something like murder. Even the egoist has to say that it's wrong, even if it does not directly affect him ( he might have to say something like, I disapprove of murder because it makes the city where I live look bad, and that makes me sad). But what about an act with a little moral ambiguity. Let's take adultery. Now, first off, we're pushing the Christians out of the room, they're no fun in this game. They tent to count everything as a moral wrong. Second, let's decide which moral theory that we'd like to use first. Personally, I'm quite partial to Kantian ethics, so I'll start there. Kant's great moral theory is expressed through his Catagorical Imperative (C.I.). At first glance, it seems that by applying the principles of Kant's moral theory, sexual impropriety is a no-no. But let's look a little closer. Let's look at an example: I'm assuming that many philosophers would not admit to watching, let alone enjoying pornography. There's not much in the way of deep thinking in your garden variety skin flick (there's alot of other deep stuff going on, but it ain't what you'd call thinking). Back in the 1970s, when adult films were coming (no pun intended) into the mainstream, some filmmakers attempted to create "real" cinema. That is, some pornographers had in mind to make movies that a mature adult audience would see at the local cineplex. You'd take out the wife to see a double bill of Barbara Broadcast and Smokey and the Bandit. Or so it was assumed that's what people would do. One of these "adult" films was The Private Afternoons of Pamela Mann directed by Henry Paris (by the way, watchers of so-called "soft-core" films may be aware of the fact that Henry paris is also known as Radley Metzger. As Radley Metzger, he directed the movie Carmen, Baby. I only mention this fact because Carmen, Baby contains a scene that, once you've seen it, you will never think of wine bottles the same). Where was I? Oh yes. So, luckily for filmgoers looking to arouse their prurient interests, porn plots are fairly uncomplicated. This film is no exception. It goes like this: man has cheating wife. Man hires private dick (ha, ha) to follow wife. Wife seduces P.I. Detective removes himself from the case because he feels (get this) guilty for betraying his employer's trust (although he doesn't admit to the real reason why he quits). When all's said and done, we learn that it's all been a set-up. Man and wife actually do this to get their rocks off. As they wish each other a happy anniversary, the curtain falls (literally) on the post-coital couple. Now, let's throw out the fact that sex is supposed to be inherently dirty and morally wrong. Let's run it through Kant's C.I. First, we ask, would we want to universalize the act that the Mann's did in the movie? Well, they might answer yes. In fact, if we take Kant's declaration that we must first and foremost act from duty as our dominant principle, Mr. and Mrs. Mann may suggerst that they did act out of duty to each other. If couples did as they do, they might reason, their marriages may actually be better off. Ok. Let's move on. Second, we ask, did anyone get used as a mere means to their end? We might answer yes, the P.I. did. But wait, let's look at the private detective. He knew that he was following a married woman. He was hired by her husband. He knew what she was up to, namely sharing her virtue with anyone within a five mile radius of her person. So, when she seduces him, was he really used as a mere means? It seems that the detective wasn't so much used as the pair decided to use each other. The act was mutually beneficial to both. No one got any more out of the act than the other. When the detective regigns from the job, he does not tell Mr. Mann why he is leaving the case. He merely states that "something came up" (I think that pun was intended). He evades the real reason for his leaving because he felt that what he did was morally suspect. And lastly, no one got hurt! At the end of the movie, everyone is happy. This not only checks out for the Kantian, but for the utilitarian, and (especially) the egoist as well. Ok, the Christians still have a problem with the whole adultery thing. So let's ditch the porn. I've gone through how a seemingly bad act can be good, or at least not as bad as it may seem. But, what about so-called morally good acts? Can they be hiding a hidden evil? For some strange reason, I decided to watch Superman Returns the other day (maybe it has to do with finding Kevin Spacey oddly attractive. Whatever), and watching that made me want to watch the far-superior Superman: the Movie starring the late Christopher Reeve as the Man of Steel. Why they tried to make that dude in Superman Returns act like Christopher Reeve, I don't know. I mean really, they didn't get some chick who looked like Margot Kidder! But then, we all know why they didn't, don't we? Anyway, In the movie, Lois is killed during an earthquake, which is caused by a missile detonating in the San Andreas fault. As Superman stands over her dead body, he suddenly screams to the heavens and darts up straight into the sky. He is confronted by the ghost of his father, who seems to know exactly what he is going to do, who reminds his so that it is forbidden to interfere with human history. But Superman won't have any of this forbidden business. He spins around the earth, making it reverse it's spin, thus reversing history and allowing him to go back in time, thwart the missile, and save Lois from death ( he did what Anakin Skywalker could only dream of doing for Padme). By the way, can that really cause an earthquake? Superman not only saves Lois, but he saves some kids on the Golden Gate Bridge from tumbling over the side in their bus, he stops up a dam from flodding a community and all sorts of other good stuff. It all sounds good. It sounds altruistic. But is it so? On the surface, Superman's actions check out pretty much according to every moral theory. But when we check out his true intentions, his actions are suddenly morally suspect. Ok, let's say that when we ask Superman why he did it, he says that he has a duty to sav humanity. Ok. That sounds just fine. but the Randian in me (and really, I like to keep her bound and gagged at all times) is saying, no. His duty was not to mankind. He's doing it to get something. Superman is motivated by his want to fufill his own self-interest, not to serve the needs of mankind. When he arrived in Metropolis, it shifted from something to someone -- Lois. We might suspect that had Lois lived, he wouldn't have gotten so riled up over all that destruction. He probably would have saved as many lives as he could, but would not have defied his own father to save any one person in particular. Superman reversed time to save Lois, pure and simple. His motivation towards saving her wasn't duty -- it was that he wanted to do to Lois what he eventually did do to Lois in Superman II (that is, he pulled a private detective on her). Like the Mann's, Superman may try to sneak duty past us when he explains to us why he saves people. But this is just not so. His goal is to get Lois. If you want to get really dark about things, you can say that the entire state of California served as a mere means to his getting Lois -- an act which puts Superman's morality right along side of a typical character you'd find in your average smut flick (in fact, this would make a terrific plot. Superhero saves lady. Lady feels need to shower with equally hot roommate. Cable guy shows up...). Let's not forget the fact that the utilitarian can say that Superman's supposed altruistic act caused more harm than good. By diverting the missile and letting it explode in outer space, Superman shattered the phantom zone, thus releasing General Zod and his equally evil companions to take their revenge against Superman's father out on the citizens of earth. Superman merely swapped one evil for a greater evil. Instead of Lois dying or just the people of California in danger, Superman endangered the entire planet when Zod and his two cohorts were released from captivity. When all's said and done, Superman's acts only have the veneer of good deeds, but deep down, they're truly evil. Which makes me think that this is why, when I think of what I do in the real world, my decisions are not so cut and dry. I find that, despite my disappointment in admitting as much, I am far too often a Superman. All of my seemingly selfless acts stink of ulterior motives and hidden wants and desires. I used to think that watching movies and TV was nothing more than brain candy, stuff that, instead of being a useful tool to sort out my own thoughts, sucked my thoughts away and made me into a passive participant. Not so. I think, and I think that it's not just me on this one, when we watch TV or movies or play video games, we can just sit back and consume. Or, we can look with a careful eye, watching the moments and situations that should and can help us to sort out our own lives. Heck, if I can learn in two hours while watching a movie what takes ten weeks sitting in a classroom listening to often boring lectures -- which one would anyone rather choose?

Bad/Good Will Revisited

I'm a fan of classic horror flicks. In particular, I'm a fan of the gimmicky films of William Castle. For those who don't know, William Castle brought to us some of the most fantastic schlock (said in a complelely good way) films of the late 50s and early 60s ever brought to the theater house or drive-in. Castle's films include The Tingler, Macabre, 13 Ghosts, Mr. Sardonicus, Zotz!, Rosemary's Baby, and my personal favorite, The House on Haunted Hill relased in 1958. If one is inclined to simply watch movies and not have to think beyond the urge to take the occasional pee break, William Castle's movies totally satisfy that need for a fix. The cool thing is, is that beyond providing mindless entertainment, William Castle's movies often have an undercurrent of something philosophical. And since so much of the horror genre deals with evil-doing, much of the subtext in Castle's films is ethical. The House on Haunted Hill is no exception. The plot of the movie is pretty simple, there's this awfully rich fellow named Frederick Loren (played by Vincent Price -- you can't go wrong there!). Loren invites a group of not-so-rich guests to his house for a haunted house party. The five individuals that are told that, if they can spend a night in Loren's haunted house, he will give them $10, 000. The trick, Loren knows, is that his guests' chances for success are fairly slim, given that the house is abound with kiler ghosts. Each of Loren's guests accept his invitation because each needs the $10,000. So, as the film opens, Loren's guests make their way to the haunted mansion on the hill. The ethical question here is obvious. Loren's intentions are clearly in the wrong. not only is he exploiting the needs of his guests, but inaddition, he plans to kill his wife. At first glance it seems that Loren is a moral criminal, not to mention a would-be murderer. But, is that so clear once we look a little closer at the situation? First. let's throw out the Loren wanting to murder his wife bit. Murder, even if your wife is a total b, is always wrong. Even if we all think the dame deserves to die ( Loren's wife is, afterall, carrying on an affair with some dude named Trent) we can't justify killing her. But, that leaves Loren's challenge to his guests. If they spend a night in the house, they get money. Sounds like a fairly even exchange. We enter into this same type of exchange all the time. Some people work for pay, kids do chores for money, we pay for overpriced tickets to see our favorite band in concert, etc. Most of the time, the exchange of money for services rendered is non-exploitive. Morally, this is absolutely OK. Kant's Categorical Imperative (which I will refer to as C.I.) includes two principles by which we should (or is it must?) judge the rightness of our actions. Kant's first principle states that we act only on a maxim that we at the same time can make universal. That is, before we act, we ask, should everyone do this? For instance, if I wanted to steal an unguarded iphone sitting on a desk, I should ask, would I want everyone to do this? Would I have for a moral rule "if an iphone is unguarded, it is morally right to steal it"? The answer in this case is obviously no. I wouldn't want that for a maxim to be obeyed by everyone. Kant's second principle holds that we must treat other people as ends in themselves, not as mere means to our own ends. According to Kant's second principle, I cannot use others to further my own goals. So, if I decided to take philosophy classes because, no wait, bad example. If I make friends with Dante's mom because she has lots of spare cash floating around, and I really don't like her, but I enjoy the perks of her "friendship", then , according to Kant, I am morally wrong because I am using someone to further my own ends -- namely the fact that someone is spending their money to satisfy my wants. Kant's categorical imperative deals with absolute moral obligations (as opposed to hypothetical imperatives, which are binding on a person so long as that person desires to fuflil some result or end. For instance, if I want to lose weight, I have to diet and exercise. I'm only bound to diet and exercise so long as my end). As I noted, in the case of Frederick Loren, the situation seems to smack of exploitation. The people Loren invites need the $10,000, and they will do anything, including risking their own lives, to get it. But that's just it. Both sides are in it to get something. Loren's guests want Loren's money just as much as Loren may be inclined to exploit them. They are willing to do anything, even risk their own lives to get it. So here's my question: what does Kant say about mutually exploitive acts? Every one of Loren's guests wanted something (and that Trent guy wanted Loren's wife as well). They went to Loren's haunted house party knowing that there was a chance that they might not make the night. So let's look at Loren's "party" according to Kant's first principle of the C.I. Let's say that Loren constructs his maxim as such: "If you want to invite a group of people to your haunted house, be sure to offer them a large sum of money as to compensate them (or their heirs, if necessary) if anything bad should happen to them". That sounds fair. If Loren constructs his maxim that way, it seems that it has a whiff of fairness to it. I don't think anyone would be offended by this maxim. But, Loren thinks about his maxim. There's something wrong with it. It's not quite complete. So he reformulates it by adding a clause to protect him from those who accuse his maxim of exploitation. Loren adds: "If you want to invite a group of people to your haunted house, be sure that they are well-informed that the house is haunted and that the ghosts are dangerous, and be sure to offer them a large sum of money as to compensate them (or their heirs, if necessary) if anything bad should happen to them". I think, that, if Loren use this as his maxim, he's in the moral clear. Loren adds, they are getiting something from me as well, so it's not just me who is benefitting in this situation. With Loren in the clear on principle one, let's move on to the second principle. Kant's second principle states that we cannot use others as a mere means to our own ends. This means we cannot use others by way of coersion, manipulation, exploitation, force, etc. Kant's C.I. requires that we respect the dignity and autonomy of an individual to make rational moral choices for himself. If we are to make autonomous moral choices, we must enter into our decisions well-informed and free of coersion or manipulation. If we do not, then our choices were not rendered autonomously. It seems that Loren's guests entered into the agreement (an overnight stay for money) freely and knowingly. Loren's guests know that the house they will spend the night in is haunted. They know that they will get $10,000 if they spend an entire night there. They accepted Loren's invite and intend to leave the mansion $10,000 richer. So, Loren may say, so what if they all need the money, they all agreed to be here. If I, Frederick Loren, was to say anything about the matter, I'd say that they agreed to be exploited! So, Loren has thrown his opinion into the ring, and said that his guests agreed to be exploited. So now we ask, can a person agree to be exploited? Kant would say no. In this situation (and others similar to it -- like when a woman who works as a "dancer" says that she's not doing degrading work, but at least "gets paid" -- that's what Dante's mom says, anyway), the fact that both parties agree to the act doesn't make the act morally right. As the old saying goes, "two wrongs don't make a right". And this is what Kant thinks as well. Even if Loren says that his guests agreed to spend the night in his house, the situation still stinks of exploitation. Loren argues that his guests were getting paid for their stay -- but the fact is, is that Loren invited people who needed the money, not merely wanted it. They were willing to engage in a extreme act that they most likely would not have done if their situations were not so dire. In a sense, they were not free to do otherwise. The fact that their acceptances to Loren's challenge was made out of desperation, meant that their decision was not a truly autonomous decision. The offering of money was a form of coersion. But, wait, Loren cries -- they could have freely left the house at any time. They weren't forced to spend the entire night! True, but, we can say that the lure of money was so great (not to mention not seeming like a wuss) that they could not leave. Loren knew that, once he suggested that his guests were total wusses if they left, no one would leave. So he's still in the moral wrong. Loren can't say that this situation was excusable because his guests decided to attend his party. Kant's C.I. wants us to seek out moral rules that are universal. The categorical imperative requires that we consider all in our moral sphere, not merely the five people that we invite to our haunted house party. In this situation, Loren's guests may benefit, but we (collectively) lose. So, it seems that Loren's maxim wasn't universalizable, no matter how many clauses we add, we can't morally justify exploitation -- even if the exploitation is mutual. Our moral universe requires that we create rules that aren't just useful for throwing haunted slumber parties, but useful for everyone who is affected by our actions. For Kant, that "everyone" isn't limited to the people that we know, but covers everyone at all times in all places (including planets where soul-sucking botanists dwell). If we deny someone the right to do otherwise, even if we inform themof all the risks, we aren't respecting their ability to make rational moral choices -- which is exactly what Frederick Loren did in The House on Haunted Hill. In picking people who needed the money, no matter how well informed his guests were, no matter if they didn't leave after he informed them that they could, Loren used them as a means to his own ends, and deprived them of the respect that being a morally autonomous being requires. And because of that, Frederick Loren violates the principles of Kant's categorical imperative. And, let's not forget, the guy wanted to kill his wife!

I Usually Don't Ask Open-Ended Questions, Because I Usually Have All the Answers

Kant opens the first section of his Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals with the statement: "Nothing in the world -- indeed nothing even beyond the world -- can possibly be conceived which could be called good without qualification except a GOOD WILL". Kant says that there are qualities that may be good and desirable (intelligence, courage, resoluteness, etc.), but these qualities can be bad if they are not accompanied by a good will. A good will, according to Kant, corrects the influences on the mind. Kant states that the will is good, not because of what effects follow from having a good will, but because the good is intrinsically good or good in itself. For Kant, all moral decisions are emanate from a sense of duty, and our sense of duty contains good will. I know that this question might seem like it has an obvious answer, and I used to think so myself, but what is a bad will? I know that what I just asked is one of those questions that scream out "duh", like asking someone who steps into the room soaking wet, shaking off an umbrella if it's raining outside. Or hearing the dude next to you stomach growl, and asking him,"hungry, eh?". It's pretty easy when someone's intent is fairly obvious, like when some dude carrying a pike, covered in blood, wearing an "I H8 Philosophy Professors" T-shirt asks where the philosophy department is. It dosen't take a stroke of genius to figure out the the guy's intent is to do some harm -- especially when it's nowhere near April Fool's Day and it's not Halloween. There is the bad will that we can see -- the murderer, the thief, the starlet intent on launching a music career. But some will is what we might call ambiguous. What do we do when the intent of the will is not so clear? I thought of sticking a personal situation in right here about something that I did that I'm still not sure as to whether my will in this situation was good or bad. (Take your guesses everybody) But since I've thought it over, I decided that I would save myself the embarassment ( not to mention any possible bridge burning) and grab an example from my collection of DVDs. About a year ago, I was made familiar with a website called selectsmart. The point of this website is to spend hours taking surveys to figure out what kind of whatever you are. They should call this website hours from your life. So, instead of studying philosophy, I was taking this survey on which horror movie protagonist I'm most like. Much to my delight, I'm like the character Dr. Herbert West from the movie Re-Animator, which just happens to be my favorite horror movie. Talk about serendipity. To those who are not familiar with the Stuart Gordon classic Re-Animator, here's the plot in a nutshell: a couple of med students at Miskatonic University discover the secret for re-animating dead people. They decide to see if it works by testing it on a cat named Rufus and then on the cadavers in the pathology ward. All hell breaks loose when one of the students beheads a professor, reanimates the professor's head and body, and eventually lands himself in a fantastic battle royale with the professor's intestines. Now that I'm done with the plot. In the film, Herbert West discovers the key to reanimation, which, in and of itself, isn't bad. You might say that someone who makes such a discovery is motivated by good will. If we can cheat death, think of all that land we'd be saving from becoming cemetaries. We could put WalMarts up everywhere! Ok, and a few Trader Joes. And it seems that, at first, Herbert is intent on making genuine medical progress. But, somewhere that same intent loses it's good-willish patina and takes a turn for the bad. We know that when Herbert kills Dr. Hill, he is motivated by a bad will. He wants to kill Hill because Dr. Hill is in his way. That's easy. And when the bodies start piling up, including the dean of the university and Dan's girlfriend Meg, we need not consult the utlitarian calculus to figure out that Herbert's quest to revive the dead was bad. But there it goes again. We can say that what Herbert West did was inherently bad, but how was it so? At what point did West's intent turn from good to bad? Since Kant tells us we cannot rely on consequences, we cannot point to the pile of dead bodies as evidence of Herbert's bad will. But we know that, perhaps on some intuitive level, Herbert's intent had changed -- although it stayed the same. I realize that what I'm saying might sound like a little bit of goobledygook here. And there's a reason for that. It's because there are times when someone's intent may be the same, but somehow the intent may seem to be aimed at doing more harm than good. What makes things worse, is the fact that, in addition to not being able to pin down how a good intent can become bad, we may not be aware that our own will is bad. We may be operating under the supposition (delusion) that our own intentions are good. But how do we know what a bad will is, or when our own will is bad? The question is not so much what constitutes a bad will than how do we know what a bad will is? Perhaps the issue of whether a person's will is good or bad is as much an epistemic question than an ethical consideration. And that's where I land my open-ended question. I'd like to know what the answer is, because honestly I have no idea.