Why Epicurean Egoism is Wise
In Which I Defend Another Much-Maligned Word
Last week, I took on the first half of the philosophically-accurate but colloquially-confusing label “hedonistic egoism.” Epicureans are hedonists, I explained, but in practice that mainly means that we try to avoid mental pain. Today I’ll be discussing the equally disreputable word of “egoism.”
In the technical terminology of philosophy, Epicureans are ethical egoists, believing that self-interest should be the guiding principle of our behavior and that there are no external moral codes that define right and wrong, or that obligate us to consider the interests of others as equal to or of higher priority than our own. This is true. But in imprecise colloquial usage of the word “egoist,” or in the more correct usage of the related “egotist,” speakers usually mean something distinctly negative, imagining some kind of self-centered, selfish jerk.
Epicureans are egoists, but we are not self-centered, selfish jerks. How can we reconcile these two descriptions? What kind of egoists are Epicureans?
Psychological egoists: Just as with psychological hedonism, we think this is just descriptively true—people are inevitably motivated by self-interested impulses, a broad category in which we include impulses that may have prosocial results, or that might not pass a test of reasoned calculation of maximum benefit to ourselves. Just as with psychological hedonism, however, you don’t have to accept this entirely to find value in the central consequence: working with our predominant instincts is more likely to be successful than working against them.
Prudential egoists: This isn’t a standard term, but it’s important to keep in mind the consequences of our prudential hedonism—we don’t think maximizing our monetary wealth really helps us, for instance, but staying on friendly terms with our neighbors does add to our peace of mind. We do look for our own advantage—but only in things that actually matter. Importantly, living cooperatively with others falls into that category.
Prosocial egoists: We can go further. Not only is our understanding of “self-interest” quite different than the selfish egotism of the caricatures and therefore relatively benign, we believe that our philosophy is actively beneficial to others and to the world at large. Some things we value highly are friendship, conflict avoidance, and spreading our philosophy of thoughtful and cooperative anti-greediness to those who want to hear it. We avoid the commonly detrimental behaviors of greed, anger, ambition, and being moralizing busybodies.
1. Psychological Egoism
Let’s explore each of these in a little more depth, starting with psychological egoism. This is the term ethics textbooks use to describe a descriptive rather than normative belief: we believe that humans simply and inevitably do act based on their own self-interest, even before we get to consideration of what we should do.
In this perspective, even the most seemingly altruistic actions are ultimately motivated by our own self-interest—not necessarily in a rational and calculated sense, but as a matter of impulse. If you rush into a burning building in order to rescue someone at the risk of your life, that means that you are obtaining some psychological reward for doing so: if you do it, you will feel gratified, proud, or contented with yourself, while if you stand by while listening to the child screaming for help you will experience pain, guilt, shame, or remorse. Psychological egoism attempts to set our different emotions on a more level playing field, rather than labelling some actions with the privileged description of “altruistic” and others with the condemnatory epithet of “selfish.” We believe that jumping to moralizing labels isn’t particularly helpful: we want to develop a more useful conception of self-interest, a process that is not benefitted by across-the-board villainizing of our natural instinct to consider our own interest.
Some sources will insist that psychological egoism is invalid if any altruistic actions exist. Rescuing a child at risk of your own life is not “egoistic” in any normal understanding of the word, they would say. And if you want to stick to the commonsense usage of the word and call the child-rescuer “altruistic,’ that is fine with me! But we shouldn’t overlook that the vast majority of our mundane daily actions are clearly self-interested in a variety of often very boring ways. We eat because we’re hungry and put on socks because our feet are cold. We brush our teeth so we don’t experience dental health problems, bad breath, or consequent social disapproval. We go to work so we will have money we can spend on stuff from which we will derive utility or pleasure.
There are therefore two things to take away from the Epicurean belief in psychological egoism. The first is just an understanding and clarity about what we mean when we accept the label “egoism,” even if you are skeptical about the terminology. We are the kinds of egoists who will do seemingly “altruistic” actions—we just think that realism about our motives will reveal some form of psychological self-interest.
The wise man feels as much pain when his friend is tortured as when he is tortured himself.1
The wise man will sometimes die for a friend.2
The second useful reason for this lens of psychological egoism is a greater awareness and attention given to our default and natural motives for action. Whether you accept that egoistic rationales motivate all of our actions, or 99%, or 95% doesn’t really matter. If you are convinced that 5% of the time, humans manage to transcend or overcome their selfish instincts in order to behave in an authentically altruistic manner, it still remains the case that our most common motivational impulses are based on some form of self-interest. It is therefore of great practical benefit if we can have thought patterns in which those natural “selfish” instincts lead to good outcomes, rather than short-sighted greediness and zero-sum conflict.
In many contexts, this is now a familiar and mundane idea. Market-based economies are based on the premise that putting individual “greed” and ambition to work in a socially-beneficial structure will create value and improve outcomes for everyone: pre-determined labels of “selfish” or “altruistic” may not accurately identify whether a behavior actually has good consequences for the actor or for society at large. Or consider the usefulness of laws and social disapproval for enforcing good behavior. Awareness of legal and social penalties for violence and theft are sufficiently widespread that most people are not even tempted by egoistic impulses to push over little children and seize their snacks: you don’t need to be morally exhorted to unselfish conduct to conduct yourself well in this respect, you just need to have a clear picture of the likely personal consequences to see where your more secure self-interest lies.
The point is that some form of egoistic impulse makes up our basic motivation for almost everything we do, most practical people in real life accept that, and going against that current to insist that people “should” act against their own interest will induce lots of psychological strain, dissonance, and rebellion. Sometimes you will get the desired result, but better clarity about the true nature of your self-interest will probably get the same job done with more reliability and much less psychological effort.
2. Prudential Egoism
This leads to the next element of Epicurean egoism, which we can call “prudential egoism” in parallel with the “prudential hedonism” discussed in my previous post. We Epicureans don’t want endless riches, we want peace of mind. This means that in practice, we are law-abiding, prosocial, generous, and faithful friends. People think that egoists are disrespectful of common norms, greedy, and selfish. But keep in mind what Epicurus actually recommends we do.
He tells us that if we have more than we need to give away the extra, because it is better to have the goodwill of one’s peers.3 He tell us that the wise person would die for a friend, as described above. He tell us to follow the laws4, but that in general the wise won’t need to be compelled by legal sanctions, because they recognize that their true self-interest does not reach after any antisocial goals:
Laws are made for the wise: not to keep them from doing wrong, but to keep them from being wronged.5
Once you understand Epicurean hedonism, this point is relatively straightforward. But it is essential to keep in mind. If you ever hear a critique of Epicureanism as being an egoistic philosophy, you should inquire what exactly about this egoism does the critic dislike? That it authorizes greed? It doesn’t. That it encourages disregard for the laws? It doesn’t. That it licenses selfishness and makes generous relationships impossible? It doesn’t.
Epicurean egoists want what is best for themselves. But that is above all peace of mind, which is impossible in conditions of social conflict or suspicion.
3. Prosocial Egoism
We’ve established that Epicurean egoism does not motivate people to pursue the common objects of egotistical people: wealth, attention, or unfair advantage, for instance. Epicureans just aren’t interested in those things. But we can actually make a stronger claim: espousing an enlightened egoism will promote better results for society. Let me make this argument in yet another three-part division:
The things this philosophy values are prosocial.
The things this philosophy discourages are antisocial.
The way this philosophy convinces people is more effective than fighting against nature and pretending we can easily disregard or override our egoistic impulses.
First, egoistic values are not necessarily egotistic values. I hope I’ve made it clear that Epicurean egoists are not the caricatured selfish people that one might think of when hearing the word “egoist.” Many of our values have already been alluded to here and in the past. We place a very high value on avoiding conflict. We think friendship is the greatest source of pleasure. We enjoy practicing and spreading our philosophy of thoughtfulness and cooperation, which we do through writing and conversation with willing participants.
Next, the things that we discourage are all the same things that non-egoistic philosophies discourage. We recommend that people avoid greed, jealousy, anger, ambition, politics, and generally being moralizing busybodies (remember—we only talk philosophy with willing participants). Imagine if everyone followed that advice! The world would be nicer! It is in fact arguable that our set of discouraged activities is more prosocial than many traditional moral codes, insofar as many systems valorize various kinds of ambition that can easily turn harmful. The borders of “harmful” ambition can be endlessly debated, but can you imagine someone who is too intent on maximizing their financial gain, or who is too intent on securing political power? Such persons may think they are doing socially-sanctioned things, for socially-granted rewards, but their efforts can easily turn detrimental to actual societal well-being.
So: Epicureanism by and large agrees with common moral frameworks in its selection of encouraged and discouraged behaviors. Cooperation and friendship are good; dishonesty, lawbreaking, and violence are bad. Right now, this form of egoism seems roughly interchangeable with non-egoistic philosophies espousing the same values. I believe that egoism’s big advantage, however, comes in how we advance those values. I think that we are more likely to successfully motivate the desired behaviors when they are framed as the thoughtful pursuit of our natural desires, rather than as some abstractly “right” course of behavior that actually conflicts with each individual’s true desires and self-interest, which need to be forcefully repressed. Remember the Epicurean precept:
Nature must not be forced, but persuaded.6
οὐ βιαστέον τὴν φύσιν ἀλλὰ πειστέον
The western world preached the Christian virtues for many hundreds of years characterized by violence, corruption, and inequality. Merely asserting altruistic duties does not seem highly effective. In the modern world, we have less public moral exhortation, but greater security than ever—I suspect that improved critical thinking through universal secular education and the existence of clear punishments, reliably enforced, have had a significantly higher impact on encouraging good behavior.
This doesn’t mean that Epicureans advocate for a maximum intensity surveillance state. It means that we recognize the reason those laws are formulated: to make the negative consequences of antisocial behavior clearer to those who are not wise enough to see those consequences already. We make these laws because they are more effective than exhortations to moral altruism: people respond to consequences that impact their own self-interest. In the same way, I think that increasing the salience of likely negative consequences in the long run and the big picture —as Epicureanism does—is the more effective, lasting, and easy way to encourage “good” behavior.
An important footnote: I refer to laws as one means to encourage good behavior. But how are these laws constructed if we assert that egoism is the proper lens for ethics? The answer is that laws should be written on the basis of universal hedonism, or Utilitarianism. If you happen to be a legislator, your job is to consider law writing from a universal perspective, rather than an egoistic one (in this specific scenario, your egoistic motivation is activated by the rewards of performing your job well—or at least it would in a well-functioning political system). Meanwhile, in our private lives, individual egoists should recognize that it is in their own prudential interest to live in a society that treats everyone with predictably equitable rules.
Summing it up
Now that you’ve heard these three detailed elucidations of Epicurean egoism, let’s drive home the key points.
First, now you know that Epicureans are psychological egoists, not stereotypical egotists. “Egoism” describes how we understand human motivation, but it doesn’t mean that we behave in ways that are self-important, greedy, or selfish. Epicurus tells us to keep a low profile, give away our excess wealth, and be willing to die for a friend, so don’t fight a strawman.
Second, reconsider the merits of prudential egoism. Next time you have some doubts about a course of action, confused by the specter of public opinion or some moral code you’ve learned of and how it might label a behavior as “wrong” or “bad,” throw out all such considerations. Instead, ask the simple question: if I consider my long-term goals and the long-term consequences, will this action help me?
Consider the big-picture merits of the superficially appealing option—does grabbing the last donut, arguing over the ten bucks, or winning the argument actually help you? Maybe those objectives offer very little or even negative pleasure in the long run. Or maybe the pleasure to you is very small and likely to be outweighed by the negative social consequences: will this action reduce the trust or goodwill of others towards you? Ongoing selfishness can cut off possibilities for friendship—that would be very bad indeed. But milder cases of pursuing an impulsive desire can also have negative results: maybe you will add a few drops of strain to an otherwise equable work relationship, or simply sour the conviviality of your passing interaction with a stranger. So don’t ask what is “right.” Ask if you are truly making your life more pleasant.
Finally, reevaluate what behaviors actually help other people. Do supposedly altruistic people necessarily make the world better than consistent practitioners of Epicurean prosocial egoism? I think that the common labels of “altruistic” and “egoistic” are simply poor predictors of behaviors and their social consequences. Consider any contentious political issue—abortion, immigration, or raising taxes to expand the social safety net, for instance. On any of these, you can find good-faith proponents on both sides who think they are supporting the “right” position in order to benefit their community, country, or the general human population. In the probable case that you disagree with at least one side of these arguments, you have to admit that you consider the behavior of some nominal “altruists” to be harmful. And a good chunk of that party will, in turn, consider your “altruistically” motivated positions to be harmful.
What might be a better way? Egoism, which diminishes all claims of an individual’s right to control the lives of others, which is always a doubtful and often a counterproductive endeavor. Are you a person with an emotional commitment to classically altruistic behaviors? There are still plenty of projects for you consistent with Epicurean ethics. Be a model of friendly, kind, cheerful contentment. If you have an excess of material wealth, then give it away to those who will derive a benefit from it. When you encounter people struggling with unnecessary mental pain, try to nudge them towards a more helpful way of considering their problems: maybe all they need to be happier is a few words. I would consider that to be a more helpful act than inciting them to anger, animosity, or vicarious victimhood: making people happy is better than making them bitter and aggrieved. Embrace all of these Epicurean-recommended behaviors and you will have made the world better with a high degree of certainty, along with obtaining an increase in your own contentment and security.
Admitting your egoism relieves guilt and cognitive dissonance. Being more thoughtfully prudential in your egoism achieves better outcomes than short-sighted impulsiveness. And recognizing the inherently prosocial qualities of this kind of egoism makes the world a nicer place to live in, reducing conflict, increasing harmony, and replacing discontented anger with tranquility.
Vatican Saying 56
Testimony of Diogenes Laertius, X.120
Vatican Saying 67
Principal Doctrines 34-35
Usener fragment 530
Vatican Saying 21