3. Happiness and the Good Life
This account, however, is open to a rather obvious objection. David Benatar
rightly points out that on the “desire-fulfillment” conception of happiness, there
are two ways in which one might reach a state in which all of one’s desires are
fulfilled (or in which none of one’s desires is frustrated): (a) having fulfilled
whatever desires one has, or (b) having only those desires that will be fulfilled.
The problem, he argues, is that on this conception of happiness,
a terrible life could be transformed into a splendid one by expunging
desires or by altering what one desires. If, for instance, one came to desire
the various features of one’s doleful existence, one’s life would thereby
transmute from the miserable to the magnificent. This is hard to swallow. It
might seem (or feel) as though one’s life had so improved, but it surely
would not have been actually so transformed.6
In responding to this, we might distinguish between being happy and having a
good life. Certainly one could be happier by expunging or altering one’s desires,
although this would not necessarily transform one’s “doleful existence” into a
good life. Suppose I went blind, for example. Presumably, I am better off with
sight than I would be without it (if only because the ability to see allows me to
have certain kinds of intrinsically valuable experiences that I otherwise could not
have). But it is certainly possible that I might be just as happy even though my life
would not be as good if I went blind. If I accepted my situation, if I did not
experience blindness as a deprivation, if I was not frustrated because of it, then I
would be just as happy even though my life would not be as good as it was
previously. Certainly, blind people may be just as happy as anyone else even if
their lives are in some ways not as good.
Some writers distinguish between two senses of “happiness.”7
In one sense, to describe someone as happy is to make a value judgment; it is to say that that
person has a good life, a valuable life, a life worth living. This is the sense in
which “happiness” is often understood by philosophers. But in another sense,
“happiness” refers to a psychological state (one that is roughly the opposite of
depression). This is the sense in which “happiness” is understood by
psychologists; and it is, I believe, the sense in which the term (or the Pāli
equivalent, sukha) was understood by the Buddha. In this sense, to describe
someone as happy is not to make a value judgment about that person or about that
person’s life (no more than to describe someone as depressed is to make a value
judgment). Using the term “happiness” in this second, value-neutral sense, what
exactly is happiness? How is related to the good life?
On the most simplistic understanding of the concept, happiness (as a
psychological state) simply amounts to “feeling good.”8
It is how we feel when
we receive good news, when we enjoy listening to music or taking long walks,
when we fall in love, or when we derive satisfaction from some accomplishment.
And certainly this is at least part of what it means to be happy. Happiness is
something we experience. There is something that it feels like to be happy, and it
feels good.
Is happiness, so understood, the ultimate good? At least initially, there is
something repellant about the idea that what has supreme value in life is just an
emotional state, a mood, or a feeling. How can it be that life, especially human life,
has no higher goal than just feeling good? But consider the importance that we do
attach to feelings. Depression is a feeling, but it can drive people to suicide.
Anxiety, terror, embarrassment, humiliation, boredom, shame, and guilt are
feelings, but people go to extraordinary lengths to avoid experiencing them. What
have you done, for example, to avoid feeling frightened, guilty, ashamed, or
humiliated? People become alcoholics or heroin addicts because of how these
drugs make them feel. We are naturally drawn to those activities—eating,
drinking, sex, reading, creative activities, listening to music—from which we
derive pleasure, and we naturally avoid those activities that cause us pain. But
pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow, bliss and agony, are just feelings. We regard
some feelings or emotions as morally good—love and compassion—and others as
morally bad—hatred and envy. Why, then, should we think that what has supreme
importance in life cannot simply be a feeling?