Calculating possible pleasures and pains is a tricky matter. Are all pleasures of equal importance? How much does each weigh? And according to whose scale? According to Mill, some pleasures are of greater value. Mill differentiated between pleasures by calling those of greater importance the higher pleasures and those of lesser importance the lower pleasures. Higher pleasures emphasize special characteristics unique to humanity, ones that ought to be promoted above the base and bestial. As Mill claims, “It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied.”12 Both eating a chocolate sundae and getting a college degree produce some pleasure in us. But one produces a sustained pleasure unique to humans; the other a short-lived animalistic pleasure, one a human wouldn’t be fit to define her life by. Some pleasures are more befitting a human life and produce a greater deal more pleasure in terms of quantity and quality. This seems right. Some pleasures do seem more potent and durable than others, and if we are maximizing pleasure in general, then although we don’t want to ignore lower pleasures like food, sleep, and sex, we should aim toward the higher ones—for example, art, friendship, and education—and try to maximize these for everybody.
Yet, the disadvantages of utilitarianism are significant and demand careful attention. Consider poor Thidwick. Before he is able to shed his horns and free himself from his oppressors, Thidwick is encumbered with five hundred pounds of pests on his head. All of his free riders are perfectly happy. So what if one moose is dissatisfied, the happiness of all the other creatures outweighs his discomfort. More people are happy exploiting Thidwick than are unhappy, so for a utilitarian the equation works out, the greatest happiness of the greatest number is produced through the apparent maltreatment of Thidwick. Even more problematic, this harsh treatment of Thidwick isn’t immoral since it produces the greatest good. Thidwick is merely one among many, the goal of which is maximal happiness. Thidwick is simply a cog in a happiness-producing machine, and so long as the output is the maximum possible happiness, it doesn’t matter if a cog gets worn out in the process. The problem is obvious. If the only goal of a group of people is to maximize happiness for the greatest number of participants, then it is quite likely that some are going to be sacrificed for the sake of the rest. The concern that utilitarians can find it justifiable to accept even seemingly horrific atrocities so long as the eventual output is positive is often expressed by the question, “Does the end always justify the means?” Shouldn’t there be a limit to what we are allowed to do to maximize happiness? Shouldn’t there be an upper bound limit to what we are willing to do, even if we have the satisfaction of the masses as our goal?
The usual criticism against utilitarianism is that basing the morality of an action or rule on the promotion of some consequence is going to permit the abuse of some part of the population at the expense of the majority who are benefitting. Consider that if Thidwick had not escaped his “guests” his life would have been plagued with a seemingly unending chain of exploitation. These moral hang-ups bring into question whether or not consequences are all that matter. Clearly, utilitarians are not oblivious to these difficulties, and a great deal of ink has been spilled dealing with them. But for us the important point is that if utilitarianism is found to be lacking, there is still another alternative. It may be that the consequences of our actions are only a part of the moral life, and pleasure alone cannot be the sole measure of them. Is the answer to go back to Kant and the absolutism of his duty-based theory? Well, there are other options. The good life may not be determined by either duty or pleasure.
Aristotle’s Great Balancing Act
The question central to Kant and Mill could be phrased as “What is the right thing to do?” Their moral philosophies depended on being able to differentiate between actions that are good and bad. Aristotle (384–322 BCE) thought differently. Focusing on actions was too narrow. Instead of worrying about what specific thing you ought to be doing, he believed we should be asking, “What kind of person should I be?” Aristotle thought that what really mattered was a person’s character. Therefore, Aristotle had to figure out and define what mattered in our moral composition.
Aristotle understood the behavior of animals and objects as fulfilling certain functions. A good hammer was one that did what a hammer was supposed to do, and did it well. Similarly, a good person was one that did what a person was supposed to do. And in order to be a good person, to do our job as people well, we needed certain dispositions or habits. Just as a hammer must have a long enough handle to generate sufficient momentum, a head denser than the material it hammers, and not be so hard as to be brittle in order to be an effective hammer, so must a person have states of character appropriate to fulfill the end of human life; namely, flourishing or living well. These states of character are the virtues.
A virtue, at its most basic, is any trait that is functionally beneficial. It is a perfection of the person, a state of one’s character that assists one in achieving her excellence. Among these Aristotle included generosity, truthfulness, modesty, courage, and temperance. His lists vary throughout his work, and none ought to be considered exhaustive. But regardless of the content of the list, being virtuous meant maintaining the virtues consistently and applying them appropriately in our decision making. No single action could be good or bad independently of the person who performed it, their intentions, and the circumstances in which it was performed. All factors had to be considered. The idea is that we call a person good because they tend to act in a way that is like a good person. Someone who has spent their entire life stealing is not suddenly a good person because they don’t steal in one circumstance. Nor should they be praised for finally exercising self-control. This one instance of honesty is an exception to their greater tendency to steal. Only if they refrain from stealing for the right reason and consistently over time can we say that they have become a better person. Moral character is developed through good habits. Through habituation one trains oneself to routinely do what is best or most admirable and thus develops a disposition or character toward the good. This disposition reinforces itself as we routinely act properly, and so we develop our characters. But this is always a work in progress.
In trying to determine what type of person we should seek to be or what would be a virtuous action for each person, Aristotle notes that as in nature, the good lies in the mean—that is, the middle. Just as too much water will drown a plant and too little dehydrate it, so the same is true of our virtues. Too much of any character trait is bound to be harmful, just as too little will equally inhibit our ability to function optimally. We need to seek the mean. But each person will have a different mean, since each person begins from a different place. The mean will always be relative to us. Consider the virtue of courage.
Courage as a state of character is a predisposition toward danger, fear, and obstacles in general. There is no hard and fast rule about what it is or how to be courageous. Yet through self-reflection and assessment we can come to an informed decision regarding our behavior. The courage of a soldier in the heat of battle and the courage of a child contemplating a ride on the Ferris wheel are different. Yet each is guided by the mean. If the soldier is too courageous he will be foolhardy and put himself and others in unnecessary danger. Likewise, although there may be truth in the cliché that “those that fight and run away live to fight another day,” if all the soldier does is run away, he will not develop as a soldier or person. He needs to fight at the right time in the right proportion; determining when this is will be a continual project of self-discovery. Likewise, the child must find his mean. If he is fearless, then he will not only ride the Ferris wheel without a second thought but he may also be willing to accept every foolhardy dare with which his peers challenge him. Fear and caution aren’t cowardly when they evince prudence. Yet if he cowers and refuses to ride the Ferris wheel he not only deprives himself of a fun experience but also sets a pattern of behavior in which he hides from or avoids
everything that makes him even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Doing so would significantly inhibit his growth as a person. Foolhardy, careless people as well as cowards fail to flourish. We can see this exemplified in the story of Thidwick. Thidwick’s tale is one of exercising generosity in the proper proportion. If he is too generous, being hospitable to each and every “guest,” then he can no longer function as a moose. Likewise, if he refused even the most innocuous Bingle Bug’s request for a brief ride he would quickly be seen to be a petty and selfish moose, and this won’t help him on his life’s journey any better.
Virtues are character traits that assist us on our life’s journey, and since all of our journeys begin from different places and have unique destinations there will be no one right answer that suits everybody, even if there are general guidelines that equally apply. We know certain dispositions—honesty, generosity, courage, prudence, temperance, etc.—facilitate growth, and that the mean is wherein success is to be found, even if we’re not sure exactly where that is. We know we should strive to be courageous, but what this means for us in our lives is going to have to be figured out by trial and error.
The culmination of the virtuous life is a state of being Aristotle called eudaimonia. Roughly translated, eudaimonia means “flourishing.” Such a rendering hints at the activity that eudaimonia describes and how it is an ongoing effort by the individual, not an accomplishment to be reached. One does not have it one day and not the next. It is fostered and maintained through caring for oneself and one’s moral development consistently over a complete life. Dr. Seuss reiterates the Aristotelian ethos, reminding us to “Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act” (Places). That is, a successful life requires constant care and maintenance through self-reflection. Life is indeed a “great balancing act,” and so we need to cultivate those skills and character traits that help us to be “dexterous and deft” as we travel the wiggled roads of life. Will we succeed if we take the advice? Dr. Seuss answered with a resounding, “Yes! You will indeed! (98 and 3/4 guaranteed)” (Places). Aristotle would most definitely agree.13
But obviously we can’t end here. Just as with all ethical theories, virtue ethics will have its detractors. The faults of Aristotle’s virtue theory can best be shown by means of the advantages of the act-based theories of Kant and Mill. They offer clear edicts or rules for calculation that guarantee a set answer to any moral quandary. Aristotle is ambiguous. He never tells us exactly what it is that is good. It is supposedly relative to the person and the context. But as Thidwick found out, it is difficult to know what to do when the time arises. A person may know that he should not be rude or that “a host, above all, must be nice to his guest” (Thidwick). But that alone will not provide Thidwick with the information he needs. In Thidwick’s case, it may have been beneficial to have some clear-cut way to know what to do, when to be hospitable and when not to. Thidwick left to his own devices is at a loss. Thidwick’s life might’ve been significantly easier if he’d known with certainty what to do. Perhaps Kant or Mill could’ve told him. “These animals are using you, Thidwick. It is disrespectful and they ought to be evicted.” Or, “Don’t you see the joy your horns bring so many of nature’s creatures? Just suck it up, Thidwick, you bring them great happiness.” But when he is on his own and trying to figure out the right proportion of hospitality to show his “guests,” he is lost. Eventually, his horns made the choice for him by molting. So the lack of any set criteria in a virtue-based ethics appears for some to be a shortcoming. Yet this may also be its strength. After all, life is not black-and-white, so a moral theory that asks us to continually reassess and correct the trajectory of our life may be more true to our lived experiences as human beings than theories based on cold calculations or absolute decrees.
The Places We Will Go
Aristotle wrote, “It makes no small difference, then, whether we form habits of one kind or of another from our very youth; it makes a very great difference, or rather all the difference.”14 He meant that the most important and critical time to morally educate somebody was during childhood. The focus on early childhood is not without warrant. Aristotle realized that if a person developed a bad habit early on in his life it was much harder to get rid of later. So, being able to successfully teach the virtues and relate them to children in meaningful ways at a young age was of utmost importance. If the virtues are taught at a young age, then one could aid in their continual development. Yet, conveying virtuous behavior could not be done through explanation or lecture alone. It had to be shown and practiced. And all parents know children learn more from examples than lectures. They also learn quite well when entertained and when their lessons impact them in a fundamental way, when it becomes an experience. Perhaps this is why Dr. Seuss is so popular and poignant. He communicates, entertains, and transforms us through his stories; stories that don’t tell you what is right or wrong but which begin the process of moral education through the presentation of scenarios and laudable and shameful characters.
It could be argued that the best examples to teach and convey meaningful ideas to our children are the stories we give them. If it really is the examples that matter, then we are rich in the tools to do so. Herein is the ongoing relevance of Dr. Seuss and the importance he may hold to our children. In his stories the parts that are of utmost importance are exaggerated, and the relationships that exist between the characters provide a working model by which we can compare our own actions. It is not that any singular story conveys a lesson of importance over the others. It is that together the works of Dr. Seuss develop and illustrate a multitude of ideas and situations, and this diversity is representative of the variety of situations that we will inevitably encounter throughout our own lives. It is doubtful anyone of us will ever have it all figured out, knowing exactly what is right and wrong in each and every circumstance. But this life is too vast, too open, and too messy to be so easily deciphered and conquered. What we can hope for, and what we can accomplish, is to garner a deeper understanding and appreciation for this life, and through continued questioning and investigation live honorably. And whether we are just beginning our journey or already well on our way, we can all learn from the courage and fidelity of Horton, the trials and tribulations of Thidwick, and the arrogance of the Zooks, Yooks, and Zax.15
CHAPTER TEN
Horton Hears You, Too!
Seuss and Kant on Respecting Persons
Dean A. Kowalski
Devout Dr. Seuss fans can recite the opening lines of Horton Hears a Who!: “On the 15th of May, in the Jungle of Nool, in the heat of the day, in the cool of the pool . . .” (Horton). However, not everyone remembers that Dr. Seuss introduced Horton fourteen years earlier in Horton Hatches the Egg. The moral messages of Dr. Seuss and his iconic elephant are best appreciated by studying each story in turn. This kind of procedure, fortuitously enough, is analogous to standard investigations of Immanuel Kant’s two categorical imperatives. Kant never wrote books for children. In fact, his prose is complex and foreboding; however, some of his ideas—like Dr. Seuss’s—are immanently intuitive, bordering on common sense. Indeed, the moral messages of Dr. Seuss and Kant tend to converge, especially with respect to the ethical importance of personhood and human dignity. This essay proposes to capture both levels—the Kantian complexity and the Seussian obviousness—in order to help the reader achieve a deeper appreciation for each.
Philosophical discussions about the value of personhood and human dignity cannot begin without Kant. His ideas in this regard have been seminal. However, few philosophers agree with all facets of his view, his staunch commitment to moral absolutism being one notable example. For the past two centuries or so, philosophers have attempted to retain the intuitive heart of Kant’s ethical ideas but rework some of the details for the sake of overall plausibility. A careful interpretation of Dr. Seuss’s heroic elephant suggests one such revision. It will be argued that Horton Hatches the Egg and Horton Hears a Who! powerfully con
vey the moral importance of personhood but without obviously affirming Kant’s position that moral rules hold without exception. The very fact that Horton’s behavior is heroic holds the key to this revision of Kant.1
I Said What I Meant, and Meant What I Said
In Horton Hatches the Egg, Mayzie the bird is tired and bored of caring for her egg and seeks a bit of rest. Horton strolls by, and Mayzie pleads with him to take her place. Horton thinks the idea is preposterous; he’s an elephant after all! But Mayzie presses: “I know you’re not small . . . Just sit on it softly. You’re gentle and kind. . . . I won’t be gone long, sir, I give you my word” (Hatches). Horton agrees to assist her, and he fortifies the tree to support his great bulk. But Mayzie doesn’t return quickly. In fact, winter passes. But through it all, he remains diligent, affirming, “I meant what I said, and I said what I meant, an elephant is faithful one-hundred percent” (Hatches). This slogan, never appearing in Horton Hears a Who!, clearly conveys the moral ideal that we should be faithful to our word.2 Horton is faithful to what he said; Mayzie is not. Seuss’s moral message is clear: Horton is commendable for keeping his promise to Mayzie, but she is blameworthy for lying to him. So, Horton Hatches the Egg seems to convey the moral importance of keeping one’s word.
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