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The Higher and Lower Pleasures of the French Culture Pass

image of stacked comic books

French president Emmanuel Macron recently introduced a “culture pass,” what amounts to €300 for each 18-year-old in France to spend on cultural activities – like going to the movies, seeing a play, or going to a museum – or for buying items that are of cultural or artistic value – such as books, art materials, membership in classes, etc. The French youth need only download an app, and then they have 2 years to spend the funds on whichever of the above they see fit. Some have praised the initiative for encouraging youths to experience more cultural activities after a long lockdown, as well as for stimulating the creative sectors of the economy; others, on the other hand, have taken a more cynical stance, denouncing it as nothing more than a vain attempt at wooing France’s younger voters.

There has, however, been a different kind of criticism, one that concerns what the culture pass users are spending their money on. A headline of a recent article in The New York Times, for instance, reads: “France Gave Teenagers $350 for Culture. They’re Buying Comic Books.” The article outlines how many are using their culture pass to buy manga, specifically, with some in the French media even dubbing the culture pass the “manga pass”, instead. While the Times article is, in fact, largely supportive of the initiative, it’s clear that there is some subtle judgment going on in the title.

Others have been less subtle. For instance, in a recent opinion piece at The Telegraph, the author disparagingly compares the culture pass to the Education Maintenance Allowance (EMA), funds that are available to youths in the UK for educational purposes:

“The EMA was a great scheme, but young people don’t always do what they’re supposed to with the resources that they’re given. This is a lesson now being learnt by the French government, with the news that Emmanuel Macron’s ‘culture pass’ is being used by its young beneficiaries to stockpile graphic novels instead of opera tickets… It’s no wonder that many French kids are spending their €300 on the instant gratification of an entertaining comic, not challenging themselves with an arthouse film or a three-hour play.”

Here, then, is the concern: giving youths money to spend on culture is really only worthwhile if they spend it on the right kind of culture. Art galleries and opera are cultural activities that will challenge you and open your mind to new artistic experiences; comic books, on the other hand, will not.

Is this mere snobbery, or is there something to this argument? There does exist philosophical precedent for making a distinction of this kind: John Stuart Mill, for instance, famously stated that “it is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied.” According to Mill, that this is the case is the result of there being “higher” and “lower” pleasures: those of the former type exercise our more complex capacities – say, by challenging us to use our reason or engage with difficult subject matters – while those of the latter appeal to our more animal nature – e.g., those pleasure that come along with eating, sleeping, and our more carnal desires. Mill also argued that there was no way to balance the lower against the higher: in other words, even though you might enjoy a greasy fast-food meal, no number of such meals could ever outweigh the much more quality pleasure of visiting an art museum.

It’s not clear how convincing Mill’s view is. After all, it seems to be dependent on the individual as to what one gets out of any particular experience. For instance, while one might think that going to see an opera is more worthwhile than, say, going to see the new Fast and the Furious movie, I might get more out of the experience of appreciating the excellent cinematography of the latter, especially if I’m bored to tears by the former. Something similar is no doubt the case when it comes to what one will get out of different reading materials: while one person might not find anything of value or interest about manga, others will no doubt get much more out of the experience of reading it. There doesn’t seem to be a good way, then, of clearly categorizing certain cultural or artistic experiences as objectively better than others.

Nevertheless, one might still think that there is at least a sense in which the 18-year-olds of France shouldn’t be spending all their culture pass money on manga. Here, then, is a different kind of argument: one could perhaps make best use of an initiative like the culture pass to experience a diversity of cultural activities. This is not to say that there are any specific cultural or artistic experiences that are any more valuable than any others – as we saw above, there is no specific reason to rank opera above manga. Rather, there is value to be had in the diversity of experiences itself.

There is perhaps something common both to the argument that there is value in a diversity of cultural and artistic experiences, and the one that says that the French youth are wasting their culture pass buying comic books: if all one is doing is buying more comic books, and this does not make one’s cultural experience any more diverse, then one should consider spending their money on something else instead. Where these arguments differ, however, is that if there is value in diversity, then perhaps some people should, in fact, be buying more comic books. For instance, if you’re the kind of 18-year-old who grew up listening to classical music, going to the opera, and reading Dostoevsky, then diversifying your cultural experience might mean that you should really go out and buy some manga; after all, you might learn something new.

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Unpacking Our Guilty Pleasures

photograph of cain statue

February has already proven to be a month of guilty pleasures for me: not only is it the month of the Super Bowl, but a new Fast and Furious movie – inexplicably titled “F9: The Fast Saga” – has been announced. Now, I’d like to be the kind of person who took pleasure exclusively in high brow entertainment and fine art, but I’m just not. And two of the things that I take the most guilt in enjoying are the NFL and stupid action movies.

But what makes a pleasure a guilty pleasure? And how bad should I feel about enjoying them?

Call something a guilty pleasure if it’s something that brings you happiness in one way or another, but that you feel bad about enjoying. These kinds of pleasures can come in many different forms: people will often say that listening to a musical artist who they find embarrassing, or that reading a trashy novel, or watching a cheesy movie is their guilty pleasure. The guilt here seems to be one pertaining to aesthetic value: we know that there are really great musical artists that we “should” be listening to, classic novels that we haven’t gotten around to reading yet, and films with artistic merit made by real auteurs, but we choose to take pleasure in other things, instead. The guilt involved, then, seems to be one in which we feel bad about not bettering ourselves, aesthetically-speaking, or at least not living up to the standards of taste that we take those around us to have.

If we think about these kinds of guilty pleasures, then although we may indeed feel bad about enjoying them, it really doesn’t seem like we should beat ourselves up about it. If the only thing that you feel bad about is that you’re not enjoying what someone says you ought to be enjoying, and you’re really not causing anyone any harm, then you’re likely morally in the clear. This is not to say that you shouldn’t try to broaden your artistic horizons now and then – it’s probably a good thing to not subsist solely on an artistic diet of increasingly fantastical car-chase movies – and there are no doubt reasons in the vicinity that will support diversifying your interests – for example, that the indie film director probably needs your money more than Disney. That being said, there are other kinds of guilty pleasure that we should maybe feel more concerned about.

Consider my other guilty pleasure, watching the NFL. What is the source of my guilt? It is, in part, a guilt that comes along with knowing that I could be spending my time better engaging with something that was more enriching, or just that I could be doing something productive instead of sitting on the couch all afternoon. At the same time, the nature of my guilt is a little more substantial, as I am well aware of all the various moral issues surrounding the NFL, and that I am, at least in some small way, contributing to those problems in consuming the product the NFL provides. Unlike how watching a fictional character getting blown up in an over-the-top action sequence brings me pleasure, watching a real-life human being get hit in the head only to have his obvious concussion symptoms ignored is far more problematic. While I likely to do not have any moral reason to give up on my aesthetic guilty pleasures, there is perhaps more of a reason to give up on, or at least address, my pleasures that cause legitimate moral guilt.

There is a worry, however, in lumping together these kinds of aesthetic and moral guilty pleasures under the umbrella of “guilty pleasures” generally. For instance, guilty pleasures are not only the kinds of things we tend to feel bad about, but are also the kind that we tend to give ourselves leniency towards: I might feel a bit bad about reading a trashy novel when I know I could be reading Dostoyevsky, but I’m probably going to forgive myself pretty quickly, and as a result I probably won’t feel that much pressure to change my behavior. But there is also a temptation to lump in things that we know are bad into the category of guilty pleasures, and thus give ourselves a pass on them. For instance, some might resist the moral reasons towards eating less meat with the reason that eating meat constitutes a guilty pleasure in the same way that the music of Taylor Swift might constitute a guilty pleasure (hypothetically, of course). But this would be a mistake: guilt caused by recognizable moral reasons is not the kind of guilt that we can ignore in the way that we can generally ignore aesthetic guilt.

This is not to say that you’re not allowed to have any fun, or that it is definitively your moral imperative to never watch another NFL game again (although one might make a case for this). Rather, it is to say that not all guilty pleasures are the same, and so examining the root cause of why one feels guilty about a guilty pleasure is worth doing.

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Black Friday and Ethical Consumption

photograph of blurred crowds moving through two-story mall

Every year millions of pieces of clothing get bought, worn, and discarded in a constantly repeating cycle of consumption. Issues of the fashion industry such as its strong negative influences on the environment and its repeated neglect of worker’s rights are by now well known among consumers. Certain retail stores like H&M have started transitioning towards more sustainable production chains. But regardless how much more sustainable materials and higher wages the industry adopts, there remains an ethical concern inherent to the field of fashion—constant consumption. As Robin Givhan of The Washington Post Magazine writes: “Because fashion’s fundamental operating principle rests on planned obsolescence, brands are in a ceaseless cycle of replacement and replenishment. Fashion’s job is to goad you into wanting, needing more.” So, let’s take a moment to discuss consumerism before we rush into stores for the Black Friday sales.

Shopping undeniably makes people happy. Casually browsing through isles of clothes, spending time meandering around malls with friends, or rewarding oneself with a new pair of jeans are just some key elements of a culture that finds clothes-shopping highly enjoyable. Winter, Spring, Black Friday, Christmas, and other kinds of sales, advertisements, and attractive offers keep consumers constantly engaged and active. As people take great pride in their appearance and cultivating a sense of personal style, buying a new piece of clothing is an affordable, guaranteed, and immediate way to make oneself happy. And if we predominantly thrift-shop, buy clothing from sustainable lines and companies, and regularly give away clothes that we do not wear to friends or charities, we might feel we’ve done our part to minimize whatever negative impact might come. Indeed, many believe that as long as you take steps to reduce the harm inflicted on nature and others through your consuming habits, you are an ethical consumer.

But it may be the only truly ethical consumer is the one who consumes as little as possible. Guilt may be the appropriate response to any purchase made that you know you do not need. Even if you buy the most sustainably produced scarf you might feel a sense of discomfort if you know for sure that it is simply going to be hanging in your closet. As such, it may be the excess that is bothersome to our moral intuitions—the over in over-consumption. We are encouraged to be moderate in everything we do, and this may include our buying habits.

Moderation may be a desirable moral goal, but one might still think that the pleasure that shopping and shopping-centered social interactions give to people should not be disregarded in weighing how frequently to engage in consumerist culture. Indeed, shopping brings pleasure to many, but an argument could be made that most shopping-caused pleasure is inferior to pleasure that one may get from other more intellectually or spiritually engaging activities such as reading, meditating, having meaningful conversations with friends, or mastering a new skill. Rather than centering our pleasure and company-seeking activities around fleeting and empty joys of purchasing clothes, perhaps we should aim for the more lasting and sustainable happiness that we gain through activities that are meaningful as well as enjoyable.

In order for us to function normally in our modern day society there are many things we need to buy. However, if we are being perfectly honest with ourselves, there are also many things that we buy even though we do not really need them. When we discuss fast fashion in light of its influences on the environment, it is important that we do not skip the conversation about consumerism itself. As Givhan writes: “The simplest, best path to sustainability is not anti-fashion; it’s anti-gorging.” To address the roots of our environmental problems we should not only be asking ourselves what harms our individual purchases will inflict upon the environment but also what kind of a culture we are embracing through our actions. While ethical business practices start with ethical consumers, ethical consumers start by asking themselves the question: Do I really need this?

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Sparking Joy: The Ethics of Medically-Induced Happiness

Photograph of a sunflower in sunshine with blue sky behind

This article has a set of discussion questions tailored for classroom use. Click here to download them. To see a full list of articles with discussion questions and other resources, visit our “Educational Resources” page.

Happiness is often viewed as an ephemeral thing. Finding happiness is an individual and ever-developing process. Biologically speaking, however, all emotions are the simple result of hormones and electrical impulses. In a recent medical breakthrough, a team of scientists has found a way to tap in to these electrical impulses and induce joy directly in the brain. This kind of procedure has long been the stuff of speculation, but now it has become a reality. While the technique shows a good deal of promise in treating disorders such as depression and post-traumatic stress, it also presents an ethical conundrum worth considering.

On initial examination, it is difficult to point out anything particularly wrong with causing “artificial” joy. Ethical hedonism would prioritize happiness over all other values, regardless of the manner in which happiness is arrived at. However, many people would experience a knee-jerk rejection to the procedure. It bears some similarity to drug-induced euphoria, but unlike illicit drugs, this electrical procedure seems to have no harmful side effects, according to the published study. Of course, with a small sample size and a relatively short-term trial, addiction and other harmful aspects of the procedure may be yet undiscovered. If, as this initial study suggests, the procedure is risk-free, should it be ethically accepted? Or is there cause for hesitation beyond what is overtly harmful?

The possibility of instantaneous, over-the-counter happiness has been a frequent subject of science-fiction. Notable examples include Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, which featured a happiness-inducing drug called “soma”; and Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (later adapted into the film Blade Runner), which included a mood-altering device called a “mood organ.” Both novels treat these inventions as key elements in a dystopian future. Because the emotions produced by these devices are “false”—the direct result of chemical alteration, rather than a “natural” response to external conditions—the society which revolves around them is empty and void of meaning. What is the validity of this viewpoint? Our bias towards what we perceive as “natural” may be simply a matter of maintaining the status quo–we’re more comfortable with whatever we’re used to. This is similar to the preference for foods containing “natural” over “artificial” flavoring despite nearly identical chemical compositions. While we are instinctively wary of the “artificial” emotions, there may be no substantive difference to the unbiased feeler.

Of course, emotions exist for more than just the experience of feeling. The connection between emotions and the outside world was addressed by Kelly Bijanki, one of the scientists involved in the electrically-induced happiness study, in her interview with Discover Magazine: “Our emotions exist for a very specific purpose, to help us understand our world, and they’ve evolved to help us have a cognitive shortcut for what’s good for us and what’s bad for us.” Just as pain helps us avoid dangerous hazards and our ability to taste bitterness helps us avoid poisonous things, negative emotions help drive us away from harmful situations and towards beneficial ones. However, living in a modern society to which the human body is not biologically adapted, our normally helpful sensory responses like pain and fear can sometimes backfire. Some people experience chronic pain connected to a bodily condition that cannot be immediately resolved; in these cases, the pain itself becomes the problem, rather than a useful signal. As such, we seek medical solutions to the pain itself. Chronic unhappiness, such as in cases of anxiety and depression, could be considered the same way: as a normally useful sensory feedback which has “gone wrong” and itself become a problem requiring medical treatment.

What if the use of electrically-induced happiness extended beyond temporary medical treatments? Why shouldn’t we opt to live our lives in a state of perpetual euphoria, or at least have the option to control our emotions directly? As was previously mentioned, artificial happiness may be indistinguishable from the real thing, at least as far as our bodies are concerned. Human beings already use a wide variety of chemicals and actions to “induce” happiness–that is, to make ourselves happy. If eating chocolate or exercising are “natural” paths to happiness, why would an electrical jolt be “unnatural”? Of course, the question of meaning still bears on the issue. Robert Nozick argues that humans make a qualitative distinction between the experience of doing something and actually doing it. We want our happiness to be tied to real accomplishments; the emotion alone isn’t enough. More concretely, we would probably become desensitized to happiness if it were all we experienced. In the right doses, sadness helps us value happiness more; occasional pain makes our pleasure more precious.

If happiness in the absence of meaning is truly “empty,” our ethical outlook toward happiness should reflect this view. Rather than viewing pleasure or happiness itself as the ultimate good, we might instead see happiness as a component of a well-lived life. Whether something is good would depend not on whether it brings happiness, but whether it fulfills some wider sense of meaning. Of course, exactly what constitutes this wider meaning would continue to be the subject of endless philosophical debate.

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Pleasure (and Happiness and Good Lives)

Philosophers known as hedonists, and probably some slightly more normal people as well, have held that pleasure is the only thing we desire in itself, that pleasure is the only thing good in itself, and that it is the only thing that makes a person’s life good. To evaluate these claims, we must distinguish three distinct types of pleasure: sensory, or the pleasure of a massage or caress; intentional, or taking pleasure in some object or activity, as when I take pleasure in a round of golf or in the new car that I own; and pure feeling, the warm glow we get when learning of some award or accomplishment. Philosophers these days often seek to reduce the first and third types to the second. Sensory pleasure is supposed to be simply a sensation we take pleasure in. But this will not do. We can have sensory pleasures that we take no pleasure in, if they are guilty or addictive pleasures. Then we have sensory pleasure but no intentional pleasure. And masochists take pleasure in sensory pains. Then they have intentional pleasure but sensory pains. Nor can the reduction go the other way, attempts at which used to be more common. We can take pleasure in various activities without having any particular sensations. The pure feeling type falls between the other two: it is a bodily feeling, but without specific location in the body, and it takes objects, as does the intentional kind.

Now we can ask whether any of these types fills the exalted bill of the hedonists. We sometimes do aim at sensory pleasures, as in sex, food, and music, and they are good. We might feel frustrated or impoverished without them. But unless we are Don Giovanni, Falstaff, or Mozart, they are not the cornerstones of a good life. Pure feeling pleasures or warm glows are far more rare and not aimed at directly. Intentional pleasures are more diverse and numerous. They are therefore the best candidates for sources of goodness in our lives and goals of our desires. Focusing on intentional pleasure therefore makes hedonism more plausible, while naive attacks on hedonism most often implicitly focus on sensory pleasures.

Nevertheless, even the more sophisticated versions that view intentional pleasure as our ultimate goal and/or source of value in my view does not survive close reflection. We take pleasure in many different kinds of objects and activities. But we do not aim directly at taking pleasure. Instead, we aim to engage in the activities and experience the objects, the pleasure being a byproduct of their successful pursuit. In fact we find activities most pleasurable when we are fully “in the flow,” therefore directly aware of the pleasure we take in them only in retrospect or future prospect. When we desire an object, we typically have pleasant thoughts about it, but we desire the object, not the pleasant thoughts or the pleasure we will take in fulfilling that desire. Thus, pleasure of the intentional type is not the typical aim or object of our desires.

So what’s all the fuss about pleasure, especially among philosophers? One explanation is the equation, or I would say confusion, of pleasure with happiness. But happiness is not of fundamental importance to a good life either. In my view happiness is a judgment, most often implicit, that one’s life is going well, sometimes producing a feeling of pleasure. What’s really important is that one’s life is going well, that one’s rational, by which I mean prioritized, coherent, and informed, desires are being satisfied. Desires are coherent when the satisfaction of one does not frustrate the satisfaction of more or deeper desires. They are informed when one knows what it would be like to satisfy them. The satisfaction of such desires is a measure of one’s welfare, of how good one’s life is overall or at a given time. Nonsensory pleasures are both effects and symptoms of a high degree of welfare. But they come from fulfilling desires for more important things. Fulfilling rational desires brings value to our lives, not the pleasure we take in doing so, although the pleasure is a sign or reflection of that value.

It has been my pleasure to produce this post. But the important thing is that I have produced it and that you have read it, whether or not you took pleasure in doing so (but I hope you did).