Trying to Find the Why

    What is the why in your life?” That was the question asked by Mark Wilson, lead pastor at the Fowlerville United Brethren Church, at the recent meeting of the Fowlerville Business Association. Pastor Wilson was a guest speaker at the morning session and the overall theme of his talk was “Leadership: Intentional Living in Business & Life.”

   In his discussion on what motivates us in our work as well as our overall life—what we perceive as our purpose and what energizes us—he noted that many people have great ideas but fail to follow through with actions. In pursuing a more purposeful, fulfilling, and rewarding life, not only do we need to dream boldly, but at some point we ought to act upon those aspirations.

  During his talk, Pastor Wilson asked a number of questions designed to draw his audience into the discussion both with our answers and our back-and-forth comments. It proved an effective tactic, with several persons (including yours truly) offering our thoughts.

   One of the questions that got tossed into this cauldron of discourse was whether results, in and of themselves, matter or if it’s important that we also possess good motives when taking an action.

   “This is the stuff of philosophy,” I piped up.

    To illustrate my assertion, I posed the question, “If the outcome of your action proves beneficial, but your underlying intent was not praiseworthy, would the result be considered an ethical action? Or is motive also an important factor?” 

     Most of those in attendance, responding more to Pastor Wilson’s question on finding our why and less to my abrupt detour into philosophical speculation, felt that motive mattered.

   Pastor Wilson, in his talk, listed the “Five Benefits to Finding Your Why,” and they would seem to support the attendees answer that motive matters..

   Knowing Your Why Gives You Freedom—You have to find yourself in order to lose yourself. Understanding your why gives you freedom to serve other people and make a significant contribution to your world.

    Living Out Your Why Gives You Confidence—Our why creates security and comfort for you in everything you do. When you have confidence, other people take notice of you and want to figure out why you’re different.

   Layering Your Why Gives You Momentum—There’s a deep connection between your strengths and your why. The more you work out of yours strengths in pursuit of your why, the more you increase both.

   Consistently Living Your Why Gives You Impact—Living out your why on a daily basis creates a compounding effect for your reputation and results, giving you a greater impact on your world.

   Knowing Your Why Gives You Longevity—Your why is your motivation to make every day count, no matter your age. It provides you with the necessary fuel to live until you die.

    While you could classify the message we heard as a motivational or inspirational speech, the kind of self-improvement pep talk that is common at business meetings and seminars, it’s safe to say that Pastor Wilson’s talk possessed an underlying moral component.

    He wasn’t urging us to find our life’s purpose so we could more ruthlessly exploit our customers, or drive our competitors out of business, or pursue a goal of accumulating as many worldly riches as possible. So (if I might put words in his mouth), the manner in which we conduct our business and our lives—the goals we have and the dreams we harbor--matter both in how we envision them and what course of action we take to realize them.

    So, in response to my rhetorical question, a person’s intent or underlying motive matters as much as the consequences of our ensuing actions.

   Case closed?

   Well, not with philosophical speculation.

   Allow me to pose another question: How do we go about determining how to live a moral life? What criteria or guideposts should we utilize in making our choices and conducting our activities? In trying to find our why, there is obviously the personal component. Yet, no man is an island. We inhabit a larger world, and many of our fellow humans, past and present, hold views that are not always in line with our own.

    Also, in many instances, deciding what’s right from wrong, good from bad, and moral from immoral would seem (and is) a no-brainer. But not every situation or fork-in-the-road presents a clear-cut choice.  People of character might judge the circumstances differently and be inclined to pursue a direction contrary to our choice. Are we right, good, and moral, while they are wrong, bad, and immoral?

    ANYONE TAKING AN INTRODUCTORY COURSE IN PHILOSOPHY will soon come to the chapter on ethics (or moral philosophy). This is the study of moral judgments, including what is virtuous or base, just or unjust, morally right or wrong, morally good or bad or evil, and morally proper and improper.

    The question I posed at the meeting of whether a good outcome would offset a self-centered motive—the relationship between intentions and consequences—would comfortably fall within the realm of ethics.

    Moral philosophy has been divided into five main frameworks. Two of the more familiar ones are:

     Divine-command ethics: What should I do? What God ordains. A person’s particular religion or spiritual outlook serves as the guiding light.

    Relativism: What should I do? Whatever my society feels is correct. My actions should reflect the cultural norms of where I live and how I was brought up.

   We prefer to think that what is ethical or unethical or what moral or immoral as universal and fixed, yet in many instances our religious faith or cultural norms influence our judgment. And while the tenants of different faiths and the mores of different societies have much in common, we well know there are differences.

     Three other frameworks are:

   Consequentialism: What should I do? Whatever has the more beneficial consequences, either for me or for the greater society.

   Deontological ethics: What should I do? What I see as my moral duty regardless of consequences.

   Virtue ethics: What should I do? What a virtuous person would do. My actions should be the by-product of training myself though self-examination to be the kind of person who behaves and acts in a moral manner.

   I think finding your why might fall into this final framework, along with the Divine-command heading.

   In that introductory course, the student will very likely study two of the better known and influential ethical systems that were put forth and have had an impact: Utilitarianism, introduced by Jeremy Bentham, an English philosopher and social reformer (1748-1832), and fine-tuned by his protégé John Stuart Mill, and the Categorical Imperative set for a treatise by the 18^th century German philosopher Immanuel Kant.

    Kant and Bentham were part of the European Age of Reason. In this country, the Declaration of Independence (with its assertion self-evident truths) and the U.S. Constitution (with its checks and balances and separation of governmental powers) were byproducts of this period of intellectual ferment.

     Utilitarianism states that the rightness or wrongness of an action should be judged by its consequences and that what is ethical is an action or outcome that promotes the greatest happiness (or good) for the greatest number. However, your own happiness is not more important morally than that of others.

    Bentham equated happiness with pleasure and unhappiness with pain. “Nature,” he said, “has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do, as well as determine what we shall do.”

    Mill, who refined the tenants of this ethical system, stated that a moral principle by its very nature singles out no one for preferential treatment. With that qualification in mind, he wrote, “as between his own happiness and that of others,” the utilitarian is required “to be as strictly impartial as a disinterested and benevolent spectator.” Mill also felt that certain pleasures are “inherently better” than others and are to be preferred.

     One of the difficulties of this system (in my mind) is that the terms pleasure and pain are easy enough to comprehend as a physical sensation that each and all of us experience in the course of our daily lives. However, we do not tend to regard these sensations in moral terms, unless it would be the anguish of guilt or regret and the warm glow we feel when praised for a good deed. To think of pleasure for society in general as a measurable moral good and pain as a means for determining a social ill is difficult to grasp. How exactly can this be done?

   Looking past that stumbling block, what utilitarianism is stating is that when all is said and done, outcome trumps motive. Or as Spock often said in Star Trek, “The needs of the many outweigh those of the few.”

   The Utilitarians were also pointing out the reality that in our daily living, we understandably embrace choices that bring us pleasure and happiness and shun that which cause pain and unhappiness. Their notion of ethics, to some extent, is a reflection of that human behavior.  

   I had this in mind when I asked at the meeting: “If the outcome of your action proves beneficial, but your underlying intent was not praiseworthy, would the result be considered an ethical action? Or is motive also an important factor?” 

    Under the utilitarian system, the answer would seem to be “yes.”

    Bentham’s ethical system, when transposed onto the realm of political philosophy (a consideration of what governmental actions are moral and just), would seem to give preference to majority rule, or certainly to what is judged to be in the best interest for society in general. Yet in his social-reform efforts, for which he was equally famous, Bentham was a champion of individual rights. His advocacy resulted in the development of welfare, and he advocated on behalf of individual freedom, freedom of expression, equal rights for women, the right of women to divorce, the decriminalization of homosexual acts, and the abolition of slavery.

      Kant, whose work predated the Utilitarians, felt a moral rule “is something that holds without exception and that it is universal in application. Kant also felt that determining a moral principle could be done through rational means, or the use of logic.

   The term he made famous is Categorical Imperative. This would be “a moral law that is unconditional or absolute for all agents, the validity or claim of which does not depend on an ulterior motive or end.”

  The litmus test he prescribed is “to act always in such a way that you could, rationally, will the principle of which you act to be a universal law.”

    An example used in a textbook to illustrate Kant’s prescription is: If you are tempted to cheat on a test, then the principle you would presumably employ as a rationale is that securing a passing grade is of such benefit that it makes it permissible to cheat. However, if this principle (cheating) was to become a universal law, and everyone did it, then the value of the grade would be diminished.

     Kant also stated that an act is “just” or “unjust” without any regard to the consequences of that same action. So, under this system, neither your personal motivation nor the outcome of your actions is the deciding factor: A moral principle is either a moral principle or it is not.

    At first glance, Kant seems a more understandable approach to ethics. Clear, concise, no ambiguity.  But, as they say, “the devil is in the details” or as my late father was fond of saying, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

     Most people feel that lying is wrong, but many of us would say that a white lie that spares someone’s feeling is OK. But what if our lie resulted in a positive outcome? The Utilitarians would likely be supportive if it was deemed to be the “greatest good (or brought the greatest happiness or pleasure) for the greatest number.” Kant’s Categorical Imperative would be a trickier proposition. 

   The problem with Kant, when you start applying his ethical system to broader-based, real-life situations and considerations, the one-size-fits-all formula can cause unintended consequences and furthermore, it doesn’t matter.

    For example, the impartial justice of mandatory prison sentences could be viewed as a Categorical Imperative. But this approach takes away a judge’s discretionary power and ignores extenuating circumstances and the whole element of good behavior and individual rehabilitation as a reward. The varieties of individuals are ignored, and everyone is viewed as a common denominator.

    The result in Michigan is overcrowded prisons and an increasing expense to the state budget. Questions raised by mandatory sentences for certain crimes include: Is it good social policy (and is it just) to offer no hope to prisoners for early release regardless of good behavior and a genuine effort to reform themselves? And is it prudent, not to mention ethical, to have a policy that puts an increasing percentage of our population behind bars?

   Has our list of punishable offenses become too numerous and administration of justice too harsh? Are we casting too wide of a net? Are we using punishment as retribution without any potential for mercy or leniency? 

   On the other hand, is justice served if different people are punished differently for the committing the same or a similar crime? Is it fair that one prisoner is treated differently than another? Is it fair to the victims?

   Kant would say one thing, the Utilitarians another.

   As I said, “This is the stuff of philosophy.”

   The nuances, gray areas, and ambiguities of ethics can be an interesting and compelling pursuit; more so if approached with the realization that not everything is always clear-cut and easily judged. It requires you to be a benevolent spectator in weighing your own opinions against others and to act with the question in mind: What would happen if my decision was a universal law, applicable to everyone, not just for my benefit?

   Trying to find the why, whether for the inner self or in the world we live in, is not necessarily straight forward and clear cut. It can--and maybe should be--a long and winding road.

    I guess you could say that trying to find that why is my why.