This essay examines three major philosophical critiques of utilitarianism. John Rawls's "analogy" argues that treating society as a single individual violates the separateness of persons, while Peter Singer's principle in "Famine, Affluence, and Morality" contends that distance and relationship should not diminish moral obligation. Bernard Williams introduces negative responsibility, questioning whether allowing harm is morally equivalent to causing it directly. The paper evaluates each critique through contemporary examples—from healthcare systems to international aid to medical ethics—and concludes that while utilitarianism offers valid insights, its blanket application overlooks crucial contextual factors and personal agency.
Among ethical and moral philosophers, John Rawls stands out as one of the more notable and influential figures. Rawls was a prominent critic of utilitarianism, arguing that it was neither ethically nor rationally sound. His critique became known as "the analogy." In essence, the analogy posits that utilitarianism treats society as a single individual rather than as a collection of distinct persons with different perspectives, values, and senses of fairness. As Rawls stated, "a society is properly arranged when its institutions maximize the net balance of satisfaction"—in other words, there should be a uniform standard aimed at producing the greatest overall happiness for all people, applied equally across society (Rawls, 1971).
A contemporary example illustrates this distinction clearly. A utilitarian approach to healthcare would favor a single, government-run system that maximizes health outcomes for the greatest number of people. A non-utilitarian alternative would be a free marketplace with diverse coverage options, allowing individuals to choose based on their preferences and means. The former reflects a collective, unified vision of social good funded by finite public resources; the goal is to maximize the number of beneficiaries rather than optimize individual outcomes. The latter respects individual choice and preference satisfaction, even though it may leave some people unable to afford care and thus create inequity. The utilitarian system imposes a single standard on everyone; the market-based system allows individuals to define their own needs and priorities within their own constraints (Rawls, 1971).
Utilitarians counter this critique by invoking the concept of the impartial spectator. This figure—an idealized observer—would guide society in determining what it can and should provide to its citizens. As Rawls framed it, "for it is by the conception of the impartial spectator and the use of sympathetic identification in guiding our imagination that the principle for one man is applied to society." However, a critical weakness emerges immediately: who should this impartial spectator be, and what conclusions should they reach? The current political landscape in the United States exposes this problem vividly. While some citizens identify as ideologically independent, most align with either the liberal/Democratic camp or the conservative/Republican camp. These two groups would propose fundamentally different answers about what people need, how to distribute limited resources, and the role of government. Democrats typically favor universal healthcare and an expanded social safety net—decidedly utilitarian positions. Republicans generally emphasize individual self-sufficiency and limited government intervention, whether in times of hardship or abundance (Rawls, 1971).
The logical flaw here is stark: allowing a single person or ideology to serve as the exclusive arbiter of societal need is inherently problematic. While compromise is theoretically possible, it becomes extremely difficult when deeply divergent ideologies occupy the same political system—as they do in contemporary American government, where Congress and the presidency are often controlled by opposing parties. Disagreements over unemployment benefits, Social Security, welfare, Medicare, and Medicaid all reflect this fundamental clash. One party views benefit cuts as essential to prevent abuse; the other sees them as unconscionable. No impartial spectator can objectively resolve these disputes because they rest on competing visions of human nature, social obligation, and justice (Rawls, 1971).
Peter Singer adopts a different utilitarian position, articulated in his seminal essay "Famine, Affluence, and Morality." Singer asserts that no amount of poverty or suffering should be tolerated, and crucially, that proximity and distance should make no moral difference. As he writes, "the principle...takes no account of proximity or distance. It makes no moral difference whether the person I can help is a neighbor's child ten yards from me or a Bengali whose name I shall never know, ten thousand miles away." He further argues that the duty to act and the ability to act are inseparable—if you can help, you should (Singer, 1972).
Yet Singer himself acknowledges contradictions within this framework, which he calls "paradoxes." These emerge from complexities surrounding how much people give, how much they should give, what others have given, and how these contributions are perceived. More fundamentally, these perceptions may be factually wrong. Singer concedes that if everyone gave more than they currently do, outcomes would improve; conversely, if everyone gave less, outcomes would worsen. But determining what each individual "ought" to give becomes murky and unpredictable. Consider a resident of Dallas, Texas. That person might reasonably ask why they bear any burden to help starving people in North Korea, given that they played no role in creating that tragedy and could not directly alleviate it even if they wished to (Singer, 1972).
Here lies Singer's most significant oversight. North Korea's crisis is not a natural disaster or a consequence of global indifference—it is the direct result of one man's despotism. Kim Jong Un, for all his posturing of godlike authority, is simply a dictator who hoards his nation's resources and weaponry while his people starve. No amount of external aid or moral suasion will end his regime in the foreseeable future; the risks of enabling him through resources or money are substantial. The key issue Singer misses is the importance of why a situation exists, not merely what the situation is. Yes, mass starvation in North Korea is tragic, but it has specific causes—tyranny, not lack of compassion from the world—and those causes shape what external actors can meaningfully do.
The same analysis applies to homelessness and poverty within the United States. These conditions arise from diverse causes: mental illness, job loss, substance addiction, poor life decisions, and simple misfortune. A homeless person might be a military veteran with untreated post-traumatic stress disorder whose poor choices were partly driven by factors beyond their control. People often fall into one of two extremes: those who give freely out of utilitarian conviction (and may enable addiction), and those who refuse to help, assuming their aid will be misused. The truth is more nuanced. A hardline utilitarian approach that ignores causation and context is unwise, but so is assuming that personal choice alone determines life outcomes. When Rawls argues that "neither our distance from a preventable evil nor the number of other people who, in respect to that evil, are in the same situation we are, lessens our obligation to mitigate or prevent that evil," he overlooks two critical points. First, preventing harm caused by international despots is far more complex than it sounds. Second, defining what constitutes the "evil" to be prevented becomes extremely difficult when multiple contributing factors are involved (Singer, 1972).
Bernard Williams introduces yet another dimension to this critique through his concept of negative responsibility. Some people argue that there is a meaningful moral distinction between doing something yourself and allowing something to happen because of a choice you made. Williams illustrates this with a stark thought experiment: imagine ten people, and you are forced to choose between personally killing one person (which spares the other nine) or refusing to kill (which causes someone else to kill all ten). From a utilitarian perspective, you should kill the one person to preserve nine lives. But Williams focuses on the moral significance of agency. If you refuse to kill and the other nine die, you did not personally kill anyone, and that fact matters morally, even though your refusal contributed to the outcome (Smart & Williams, 1973).
A more complex and morally challenging scenario illustrates the tension further. Consider a pregnant woman who develops a life-threatening medical condition that cannot be safely treated while the fetus is in utero. If labor is induced now, the fetus will not survive because it has not reached viability. Assume the fetus's overall survival chances are low in any scenario. Two options emerge: abort the fetus to treat the mother immediately, or have the mother forgo treatment to give the fetus a chance. The utilitarian calculation favors abortion and treatment, especially if the mother's survival chances are high with prompt intervention. The fetus will likely die anyway, and the mother will likely die without treatment. Yet many women would reject the utilitarian option, believing abortion is morally wrong or wishing to give their child a chance at life, even against the odds. Most people would respect that woman's right to choose, though many would be troubled by her decision given the stakes. The situation becomes even more complex if the woman is married, has other children, or has unique social contributions at stake (Smart & Williams, 1973).
The true test of negative responsibility emerges when the woman is incapacitated or comatose and cannot decide for herself. A doctor or family member must act. In this case, one action (abortion and surgery) will definitely terminate the fetus and save the mother; another action (continuing the pregnancy and delaying treatment) might save both or kill both; a third option (doing nothing) will likely kill both. Here, negative responsibility manifests in multiple forms. The person making the decision bears responsibility not only for what they actively choose but also for what they allow to happen through inaction. The three possible options each carry very grave potential consequences (Smart & Williams, 1973).
A defense of utilitarianism in this context would emphasize the significant loss if the mother dies. If she is mentally competent, the decision must be hers alone. However, if she is incapacitated and has left no advance directive, the decision should be guided by the greatest good. If the fetus will likely not survive regardless, termination and maternal treatment is clearly indicated. If the mother's condition is terminal but the fetus might be viable, attempting to deliver a live birth could be appropriate. The specific details determine what constitutes the greatest good (Smart & Williams, 1973).
A less extreme but equally illustrative example involves workplace ethics. Imagine a manager who refuses to fire a subordinate because he disagrees with the reason for the termination, knowing full well that a higher-level manager will fire the employee anyway. The utilitarian response would be that the manager should confide in the employee and both should resign, as this would be the most just course and serve the greatest good. Another example involves business decisions prioritizing cost over safety. Consider an employee at Ford during the Pinto scandal who is not personally responsible for the safety flaw but knows enough to blow the whistle. Speaking up would damage Ford but save lives. Remaining silent would allow people to be hurt needlessly, but speaking up would harm other people—namely, Ford employees whose livelihoods depend on the company. In each case, negative responsibility complicates the utilitarian calculus by asking whether allowing harm through inaction is morally equivalent to causing harm through action (Smart & Williams, 1973).
As with most ethical questions, there is no clear victor between utilitarianism and its antithesis. There are indeed occasions when the utilitarian view is the correct approach, but utilitarianism should not and cannot be applied universally. The author believes that Rawls and Williams made the stronger cases overall. While hard anti-utilitarianism is not the right approach either, neither is unwavering commitment to utilitarian principles. The most defensible position lies in a contextual, nuanced ethics that recognizes when aggregate consequences matter most and when individual agency, personal causality, and human dignity must constrain utilitarian logic.
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