Kant and Bentham in politics and beyond

koenfucius

May 27

(Featured image: Philippe Theriault/Flickr/Wikimedia)

Two distinct modes of moral decision making are neither limited to ethics, nor as distinct as they seem

A runaway trolley comes hurtling down a hill, and is set to kill five workers on the track. However, you are standing next to a switch that could divert the trolley to a siding, where it will kill just one lone worker. Will you pull the lever, or do nothing? You may have heard of this classic thought experiment, formulated more than fifty years ago by British philosopher Philippa Foot, and no less controversial today than it was then. It illustrates two distinct modes of ethical decision making. Doing nothing represents being guided by deontology or moral rules (associated with the philosophy of Immanuel Kant). "Thou shalt not kill" prevents you from actively causing the death of the lone worker. Intervening corresponds with utilitarianism (associated with the philosophy of Jeremy Bentham), the aspiration to do the most good for the most people (saving five people is better than saving just one). But might we find these two approaches also in decisions that are not moral dilemmas?

Tension between political preferences

British politics of the day offers a couple of examples. One of the government's current challenges is the Northern Ireland Protocol, which is part of the Brexit agreement. One part of the UK – the province of Northern Ireland – actually remained in the single market for goods, to safeguard the 1998 Good Friday Agreement (GFA) between the UK and the Irish Republic. This agreement ended decades of violence, and led to the dismantling of the existing hard borders between Northern Ireland and the Republic. But without this border, preserving the integrity of the single market requires checks on goods shipped from the rest of the UK to the province. Even though the government explicitly signed up to the protocol, it is now demanding changes (not just because it is so costly and onerous for business – from artisans to national retailers – but also because it is causing a political crisis in the government of Northern Ireland).

Is this border a matter of rules, or of consequences? (photo via Google Streetview)

Another issue that has, until very recently, been preoccupying the government is whether it should levy a one-off 'windfall' tax on the energy companies, which are making record profits thanks to the high global market prices of fossil fuel (and energy as a whole). The opposition has been vigorously arguing that such an exceptional tax would give the government extra resources to provide support to the lowest-income households struggling with the burden of price rises for essentials (and not just energy), and unsurprisingly, there is wide support for this among the population. The government has now decided to implement such a levy.

In both cases, there is a tension between a 'deontological' position –adherence to rules – and a 'utilitarian' or consequentialist position – attention for the outcomes. How so? As Archie Norman, the boss of Marks & Spencer (and former Conservative party MP) argued in Today, a BBC current affairs radio show, "the EU commission is obsessed with the letter of the rules, while the UK is focused on the purpose of the rules, which is to protect the citizens." He defended the government's standpoint regarding the protocol as a "triumph of common sense over rules-based mentality". And within the Conservatives' parliamentary majority, opinions are almost equally far apart concerning the prospect extraordinary levy on energy companies. Some call such a measure 'anti-business' and 'unconservative left-wing populism', in violation of the party's fundamental principles. At the same time (to some extent, no doubt, feeling the heat of the opposition's argument and how it resonates with the electorate) others like MP Robert Halfon insist that it is the government's obligation to support hard-up families, and a windfall tax would enable it to raise money without increasing debt (and hey, even the late Margaret Thatcher was in favour of it).

Protocols and ideology may not in themselves possess the same unquestioned authority as the moral values that a Kantian deontologist would use. But a formal agreement – like the Northern Ireland protocol and the GFA – inherently embodies the acceptance of those concerned in much the same way. Likewise, a political organization's ideological values – such as being a 'business friendly' party that 'pursues low taxation' – can reasonably be expected to unite its members. Why then the apparent conflict, and former adherents to the rule shifting towards a much more consequentialist position?

The reason why rules and guiding principles often emerge in the first place provides some enlightenment. In principle, every new situation could be evaluated from scratch: establishing pros and cons of the options, weighing them up, and thus working out an appropriate course of action. That can become unfeasibly cumbersome, and rules can then function as a heuristic. If an option meets certain criteria, it can be approved without having to make complex trade-offs, and if it fails to meet them, then it can similarly be rejected. Handy!

Motivated pragmatism for everyone

But, perhaps in contrast with rules that embody a deeply held moral value, following such rules does not provide utility in itself. When the EU commission allegedly sticks to the letter of the protocol, this is not because it is somehow sacred (the EU commission is no stranger to the odd fudge). It is because the protocol, as it stands, serves it well – it preserves the integrity of the single market and the GFA (important for one of the EU members too!), and the UK's problems in supplying its remote province, well, these are of their own making. If Tory MPs invoke conservative values to reject the idea of a windfall tax on energy companies, it is probably not so much because they would die on the barricades defending these principles, but rather because their particular constituency (which supplies them with votes) is served better if the windfall profits remain untouched.

Super fuel, super profits, and hence also super tax? (photo: James Banks/Flickr CC BY SA 2.0)

We tend to like rules when they deliver us what we want: we are happy to adhere to them, and we demand that others to so too. We also like them, because – being rules – they allow us to support choices that serve us well, without having to subject them to the scrutiny of a proper evaluation of the trade-offs (imagine it would turn out to our disadvantage!). In addition, they mean that – at least with anyone who, like us, respects them – no debate is necessary. But when the rules go against our preference, we are quick to find exceptions, or indeed switch to a more consequentialist argument. Opponents to the windfall tax not only point out that it violates Conservative principles, but also that it might hurt pensioners, as around 5% of UK pension funds' assets are fossil fuel stocks: creaming off the profit will hit the revenue of those pension funds.

Yet those who play the consequentialist card are no less motivated by the outcome, and not so much by a principled tendency to always consider trade-offs. When it suits them, they are not averse to invoking rules either. The UK's pragmatic stance ("protecting citizens", rather than rules) might reasonably be seen as an opportunity to seek a solution by taking advantage of the closely aligned food standards between the EU and the UK. However, that would violate the "take back control" rule, which embodied the motivation to leave the EU in the first place.

It seems we should not attribute too much significance to whether someone argues for (or against) something by invoking rules and agreements, or whether they make a more consequentialist case. There is little or no principle involved, and there is little or no inherent value in the basis of the argument.

The distinction between the approaches effectively vanishes: as motivated pragmatists, we pick and choose whatever suits us best. It is ultimately the substance of an argument that matters, no matter who is doing the arguing. Even if that is us.

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