paradoxes of moral motivation

The Journal of Value Inquiry (2005) 39: 299–308

DOI: 10.1007/s10790-006-7526-1 C© Springer 2007

Paradoxes of Moral Motivation

MIKE W. MARTINDepartment of Philosophy, Chapman University, Orange, California 92866, USA;e-mail: [email protected]

In suggesting that “philanthropy is almost the only virtue which is sufficientlyappreciated by mankind,” Thoreau did not wish to denigrate charity, but hetook offense when even minor Christian leaders were ranked above Newton,Shakespeare, and other creative individuals “who by their lives and worksare a blessing to mankind.”1 Such individuals might be motivated primarilyby caring for nonmoral goods, such as scientific truth, aesthetic appreciation,or creative achievement. Yet, paradoxically, they often benefit humanity farmore than they could have through direct humanitarian service. This creativ-ity paradox has been given less attention than paradoxes of self-interest andaltruism, but it contains an important insight about moral motivation. It alsoforces us to clarify the distinction between moral and nonmoral goods, andhence our conception of what morality is.

1. Paradox

A paradox is a seeming contradiction, incongruity, or irony that conveys animportant truth. The paradoxes of moral motivation are not so much logicalconundrums as empirical complexities surrounding moral motivation. Typ-ically they are invoked in hortatory settings, but they have implications formoral psychology and even for ethical theory.

Most paradoxes of moral motivation turn on the interplay of self-interestand altruism.2 Thus, in self-first paradoxes we identify how self-seeking con-tributes to the well-being of others. For example, to love others we should firstlove ourselves, or to make others happy we do well to begin by being happy.The most famous self-first paradox concerns Adam Smith’s metaphor of aninvisible hand, where self-seeking in the marketplace benefits others, muchmore than systematic altruism could. In particular, the self-interested motivesof entrepreneurs lead them to create jobs for workers, quality products forconsumers, profit for investors, and wealth for philanthropists.3 Systemic al-truism in the marketplace would be less effective in creating these benefits ofcompetitive capitalism.

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Reversing direction, in others-first paradoxes we identify how self-interestis promoted by contributing to the good of others. For example, self-sacrificepromotes self-development, and we find ourselves by losing ourselves in ser-vice to others. The most familiar example is the happiness paradox: to get hap-piness we should forget about our happiness and make others happy. Anotherexample is the freedom paradox, according to which submission liberates, andfreedom is won by surrendering it to worthy causes. The idea is that surren-dering to love, community, or God opens new resources for growth, includingthe good will of others. This notion is also present in twelve-step recoveryprograms: “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol–that our lives hadbecome unmanageable,” and we “came to believe that a Power greater thanourselves could restore us to sanity.”4

In contrast, nonmoral-first paradoxes turn on the interplay of moral andnonmoral goods, rather than the interplay of self-interest and altruism. In suchparadoxes we identify ways in which pursuing nonmoral goods contributesto moral goods, for others and ourselves. An example is John Stuart Mill’sexpanded statement of the happiness paradox: “those only are happy . . . whohave their minds fixed on some object other than their own happiness; onthe happiness of others, on the improvement of mankind, even on some artor pursuit, followed not as a means, but as itself an ideal end.”5 The art orpursuit might be the sciences, the arts, athletics, work, or any number of otherendeavors involving nonmoral goods. It is important that these goods be caredabout for their own sake, as an ideal end, in order for them to provide the deepand lasting enjoyments which contribute to our happiness.

Henry Sidgwick makes an even stronger claim by inverting the happinessparadox. He says that “the fullest development of happy life for each individualseems to require that he should have other external objects of interest besidesthe happiness of other conscious beings,” and that we should engage in the“disinterested pursuit” of “Virtue, Truth, Freedom, Beauty, etc., for their ownsakes.”6 The moral goal of maximizing overall happiness requires pursuingnonmoral goods as desirable in their own right, rather than as mere means tomoral ends. The freedom paradox can be recast in a similar direction by sayingthat we are morally liberated through submission to nonmoral goods such astruth, beauty, and creative striving. Adam Smith’s invisible-hand paradox canalso be recast along these lines by saying that entrepreneurs contribute to themoral well-being of themselves and others when they value the nonmoralexcellence of their products and services.

Nonmoral-first paradoxes, then, overlap with the self-first and others-firstparadoxes. Mill’s point is that focusing outward, either by caring for otherpeople or by caring for nonmoral goods, liberates us from self-absorption.Sidgwick’s complementary point is that promoting our good requires caringfor nonmoral goods. This overlap among the paradoxes derives from the inter-twining of goods for ourselves, goods for others, and nonmoral goods, as well

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as the typical intertwining of our motives aimed at such goods. Accordingly,the paradoxes should not be construed as polarizations of these categoriesof goods, but instead as identifications of ironic ways in which pursuing onecategory of goods requires focusing on another category of goods, for theirsake.

2. Creativity Paradox

The creativity paradox is the most dramatic instance of nonmoral-first para-doxes. According to it, creative endeavors benefit others morally and alsocontribute to the meaning and happiness we find in life. The idea is expressedby one of H. G. Wells’s characters: “the motive that will conquer cancer willnot be pity nor horror; it will be curiosity to know how and why . . . . Desire forservice never made a discovery.”7 Thus, while compassion and altruism enterinto the justification of science, they are not the primary motives of most sci-entists. Hence arises the creativity paradox that nonmoral motives often makegreater moral contributions than do altruistic motives.

J. Michael Bishop, a Nobel Laureate for his cancer research, sympatheti-cally cites the remarks of Wells’s character. Bishop does not endorse an amoralview of science. On the contrary, he underscores the importance of honesty,courage, fairness, collaboration, and mentoring of junior colleagues, all ofwhich serve to advance scientific inquiry.8 In the main, however, he portraysmoral values as constraints on how inquiries are conducted, rather than amongthe primary motivations for inquiry. The primary motivation comes from thenonmoral desires of curiosity, truth-seeking, striving to be creative, and ap-preciation of nature’s beauty.

Although not moral per se, at least as usually understood, these motivesand their accompanying traits are widely admired by scientists and layper-sons alike. We are moved, for example, as we read of the heroic sacrificesof Madame Curie in studying radioactivity and discovering polonium andradium. Not only does she confront special obstacles as a woman in a malescientific world, but she risks her health and leads a stoical life in the serviceof science. She also makes direct humanitarian contributions, including de-signing and overseeing the operation of twenty mobile X-ray units and sometwo hundred more stationary units to treat wounded soldiers during WorldWar I. But her primary motives in scientific research are curiosity and joy inmaking discoveries.9 She and her husband Pierre have little interest in gen-eral fame, although they desire acknowledgment from their peers for theirscientific contributions. Nor do they care about wealth, and they choose notto patent the industrial processes they developed.

Although she is disinterested in her pursuit of truth, Madame Curie ispassionately committed to science. Her fascination with math and science

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became inseparable from her self-identity. Moreover, she does not merely seekto make discoveries but to be the first person to make them. This is typical ofcreative scientists. Considerably less typical was her indifference to financialsuccess and fame. Hence, we should immediately add an example of whereusual desires for worldly goods are interwoven with scientific commitments.

The discovery of the structure of DNA by James Watson and Francis Crickcontributes dramatically to human well-being. It leads to new drugs that savecountless lives, and it paves the way for the understanding of the humangenome that is bringing new treatments for genetic abnormalities. The mo-tives of Watson and Crick are not altruistic, however, at least according toWatson’s account in The Double Helix. On the one hand, their motives centeron scientific goods, which include the pursuit of understanding and also aes-thetic appreciation of nature. Watson expresses his “delight and amazement”in the “profoundly interesting” discovery of a structure that is “too pretty notto be true.”10 On the other hand, they are obsessed with being the first to solvethe riddle of DNA, in order to win a Nobel Prize and have their names foreverassociated with the double helix structure.11 An additional motive comes fromtheir personal rivalry with Linus Pauling, whom they strongly desired to beatin the race to discover the structure of DNA.

Watson and Crick proceed in a spirit of scientific adventure, personal ambi-tion, and competitive rivalry, not moral commitment. Morality is mentionedonly twice in Watson’s memoir. In the preface he states that the scientificworld is “complicated by the contradictory pulls of ambition and the sense offair play,” and in the epilogue he expresses regret that he and Crick failed toappreciate the virtues of Rosalind Franklin, whose X-ray crystallography hadbeen crucial to their discovery—and used without her permission.12 Never-theless, their discovery makes an enormous moral contribution. In this way,they exemplify the nonmoral-first paradox: nonmoral motivation can lead tomomentous moral contributions.

Their endeavors also exemplify self-first paradoxes, in that their self-seeking contributes to the community. In general, creativity and other non-moral paradoxes overlap with self-first paradoxes, reflecting how self-interestand scientific curiosity typically interweave in the lives of committed scien-tists. Robert K. Merton reminds us of this mixing of motives, and he alsoreminds us that competition is connected with the scientific value of origi-nality, of making a discovery first: “Recognition and fame thus appear to bemore than merely personal ambitions. They are institutionalized symbol andreward for having done one’s job as a scientist superlatively well.”13

Watson did not seek fame in the abstract. He sought to achieve fame as ascientist. The relevant fame is not a good external to science, as if it could beachieved by participating in just any social practice. For this reason, we shouldreject Alasdair MacIntyre’s way of distinguishing internal and external goodsof social practices.14 Internal goods, MacIntyre says, are public goods that


are defined in terms of a given practice and recognizable only in terms of thepractice. In science, they include scientific understanding and the meaningfullives made possible through being a scientist. External goods are goods whichconstitute private property and can be achieved through any practice, forexample, fame, power, and money. MacIntyre overlooks, however, that goodscan be described at various levels of generality.15 If someone’s motive is toachieve fame as a scientist, then this good becomes an internal good that canonly be achieved through science.

The discussion so far suggests there is no great mystery behind the creativ-ity paradox. Science, like many other social practices, contributes to moralgoods, but individuals can participate in science with myriad motives. Typi-cally, self-interest intertwines with practice-specific motives such as a desireto pursue scientific truth and to be creative. Direct moral motivation, such asto help others through our work, might not be present in a given scientist,and yet that scientist might contribute greatly to the well-being of others.In tune with the creativity paradox, the drive for creative excellence in sci-ence often brings about greater moral benefits than does direct humanitarianservice.

3. Caveats

The paradoxes of moral motivation are themselves used to motivate, guide,and justify. Thus, from Adam Smith to Ayn Rand, libertarians have usedthe invisible-hand argument to defend laissez-faire capitalism that celebrateseconomic self-seeking with minimum government regulation. Again, Mill’shappiness paradox enters into his defense of a particular version of utili-tarianism. As well, the freedom paradox is a staple in homiletic and horta-tory contexts, such as religion, where the aim is to advocate specific valueperspectives.

There is a danger in all this, since invariably the paradoxes are one-sidedand eclipse other important truths. The one-sidedness should be obvious fromthe opposite directions taken by the self-first paradoxes and others-first para-doxes. In particular, the self-first paradox can be used to validate constricted,callous, and selfish lives. Again, Adam Smith’s invisible-hand paradox ex-cludes the harmful side-effects of greed, especially harm to the environmentin the form of pollution, depletion of scarce resources, and endangerment ofspecies, all of which are harms that a free market generates and which requiregovernment intervention of the sort opposed by libertarians. Conversely, theothers-first paradox can be used to endorse endeavors based on misguided al-truism, imprudence, and excessive generosity in giving away resources neededfor ourselves and our family. Interpreting and applying the paradoxes requiresgood judgment.

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The creativity paradox is equally one-sided, in ways that make it treacherousas a guide and justification. In the strong version set forth by Wells’s char-acter, the creativity paradox is a false generalization. It is false that a desirefor service never made a discovery, and it is false that all creative cancerresearchers are exclusively motivated by scientific curiosity. Let us considerGertrude Elion, who received a Nobel Prize for her explanation of the dif-ferences in how normal and cancerous cells metabolize nucleic acid. Elionentered her scientific career in direct response to the slow and painful death ofher grandfather. As she writes, “that was the turning point. It was as though thesignal was there: ‘This is the disease you’re going to have to work against.’ Inever really stopped to think about anything else.”16 She expresses the joy shefound in helping others and especially in receiving letters from children withleukemia who had been helped by the drugs she developed. Plainly, it was hertraining as a chemist that enabled her to do scientific research, and no doubtthat training could not have succeeded unless she also derived pleasure fromthe pursuit of truth. But moral motives of service and compassion drove herresearch. In general, the creativity paradox eclipses the importance of moralmotives in the lives of scientists and other creative individuals.

For this same reason, Watson’s memoir cannot be taken as a model for themotives of all scientists. Indeed, some scientists were shocked by the promi-nence of self-seeking motives in Watson’s memoir. The distinguished biolo-gist Robert Sinsheimer, who later became a catalyst for “the human genomeproject,” calls the book “saddening” and Watson’s world as “unbelievablymean in spirit,” a world that eclipses “the humane and esthetic qualities ofscience” by focusing exclusively on “intense ambition–for the mundane prize,not the advancement of truth nor the service of humanity.”17 Sinsheimer ex-presses concern for the negative effect of the book on high school studentswho read the memoir and see the discovery of the structure of DNA as a crassexercise in egoism. Sinsheimer overstates his point. He fails to appreciate howWatson conveys the excitement of scientific inquiry, as well as his collegialcollaboration with Watson and his willingness to cooperate with peers withina wider context of competition and rivalry in making discoveries.18 Even so,Sinsheimer reminds us that the motives of scientists generally include moralcommitments. Indeed, Watson himself cautions against stereotyping the mo-tives of scientists, pointing out that “styles of scientific research vary almostas much as human personalities.”19 The creativity paradox eclipses the im-portance of moral motives in science and other social practices.

In turn, the eclipse encourages narrow compartmentalization of scientificinquiry, of the sort that insulates it from moral scrutiny by its participants.There is already a strong tendency for scientists and engineers to suspendmoral scrutiny in pursuing their work, whether owing to self-interest or to thesheer excitement of immersing ourselves in technical work. Indeed, there isa large area where it is perfectly acceptable to focus on narrow problems in


order to make progress in solving puzzles. Moreover, allowing moral valuesto influence our inquiries might distort the search for truth, especially whenthe values are not justified, as occurred in much Soviet science. Nevertheless,compartmentalizing risks transforming the pursuit of truth into a Faustianbargain that promotes evil rather than good.20

Richard P. Feynman cautions of this danger in reflecting on his contribu-tion to the Manhattan Project. His original motivation and justification forparticipating in building the first atomic bomb was to defeat Hitler, as wellas to prevent the Nazis from making an atom bomb first. For several yearshe was immersed in the technical aspects of the work. He expresses regret,however, that when Nazi Germany surrendered he was so absorbed in his workthat he did not pause to reassess his participation. The experience taught himthat “if you have some reason for doing something that’s very strong and youstart working at it, you must look around every once in a while and find outif the original motives are still right.”21 Conscience, as well as curiosity andcreativity, need to shape the work of scientists.

4. Moral and Nonmoral

Our understanding of nonmoral-first paradoxes turns on how we distinguishbetween moral and nonmoral goods, and hence on our conception of moral-ity, as does our ability to integrate moral and nonmoral values in order tominimize the dangers of compartmentalizing. We have been considering aninformal, everyday conception of morality that includes direct concern for thewell-being of ourselves and others; in contrast, nonmoral goods include suchthings as truth, beauty, and creative achievement. We might, however, narrowor expand this everyday conception. One option is to narrow morality by lim-iting it to relationships with other people, thereby establishing a dichotomybetween morality and prudence. Such narrowing occurs in Harry Frankfurt’sinsightful discussions of the freedom paradox. Frankfurt avers that “moralityis most particularly concerned with how our attitudes and our actions shouldtake into account the needs, the desires, and the entitlements of other people.”22

Using this narrow conception, which makes our own good a nonmoral matterof prudence, Frankfurt suggests that morality is vastly overrated as a guide toour conduct. Meaningful lives are far more dramatically shaped by disinter-ested caring about various nonmoral goods, such as goods in science and thearts, as well as about specific individuals, rather than by general duties to oth-ers. Frankfurt’s conception of morality amplifies the nonmoral-first paradoxby simultaneously increasing the role of nonmoral goods and narrowing thedomain of morality to universal duties to others.

In a somewhat related vein, Bernard Williams conceives morality narrowlyas a special system of values centered on obligations, free will, and blame

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and guilt. He contrasts morality with “ethics,” defined as the entire domain ofvalues that give life meaning.23 In opposition to impartial morality, narrowlyconceived, Williams sets forth a more personal ethics of character centered onthe virtues, relationships with particular individuals and specific groups, andpersonal activities in promoting nonmoral goods. He understands characteras a nexus of what he calls “ground projects” that might include moral com-mitments involving compassion and justice or relationships of friendship andlove, but that might also be nonmoral activities such as work in art or science.24

This idea of personal activities is especially illuminating in thinking about cre-ative endeavors in science. Such endeavors have ethical significance insofaras they enter into fulfilling lives of scientists and the community, but they canbe defined without invoking moral values. Even so, most personal activitiesand relationships interweave moral commitments, in various degrees, withnonmoral and self-interested commitments. A life in science, for example,might be motivated by interwoven desires for personal meaning and to benefitothers, both of which are moral aims. It might even be driven primarily bydirect humanitarian motives, as with Elion.

The idea of personal activities that interweave moral and nonmoral valuespermeates modern German thought. It connects with themes of authenticity,self-realization, and the desirability of pursuing our own way of bringing valueinto the world.25 It is an idea, for example, central to Goethe’s emphasis onwhat he calls “projects of love” that enrich ourselves and others. As AlbertSchweitzer comments in summarizing Goethe’s outlook: “everyone must re-alize the love that is peculiar to him,” and “we have to realize the good thatis part of our personal being, thus perfecting our personality, not everyone inthe same way, but each as an ethical being in his own right.”26

Turning to the second option, we might expand morality to include manynonmoral goods. For example, some versions of utilitarianism widen the listof intrinsic goods that right action promotes. Instead of restricting intrinsicgoods to happiness or pleasure, ideal utilitarianism embraces a plethora ofadditional goods such as knowledge, appreciation of beauty, love, friendship,and the virtues. If we add creative accomplishment to this list, the connectionbetween morality and nonmoral goods is tightened even further. In this view,Madame Curie, Watson and Crick, and Elion are all engaged in a moral en-terprise of seeking truth and creative expression. For utilitarians their conductwill need to be assessed in terms of overall production of goods. Given thedramatic impact of their achievements, however, it would seem plausible toportray their scientific activities as forms of right conduct. In this connection,James Rachels, inspired by Sidgwick, recommends a “multiple-strategies util-itarianism” in which we promote the general good through direct concern formany more specific goods, moral and nonmoral.27

Another expansion of morality, this time within virtue ethics, would haveus abandon Aristotle’s distinction between moral and intellectual virtues.


For Aristotle, intellectual virtues include such things as curiosity, love oftruth, drive to be creative, unbiased judgment, clarity of thought, attentionto detail, disciplined response to evidence, openness to new hypotheses,and appreciation of elegant and beautiful equations. Instead of regardingthese virtues of the mind as nonmoral virtues, we might construe them asmoral virtues. They are intellectual virtues only in that they are moral virtuespertaining to intellectual endeavors. Linda Zagzebski, echoing Spinoza andHume, defends this proposal: “Intellectual virtues are, in fact, forms of moralvirtue.”28

Zagzebski’s broad conception of morality might seem to dissolve the cre-ativity paradox by collapsing nonmoral matters into moral matters. In fact,her conception of morality merely prompts a revision of the paradox. Afterall, a contrast remains between the moral content of the self-fulfillment ofscientists and the contribution scientists make to others. In effect, the paradoxis recast in terms of the moral contribution of science to the life of a scientistand its moral contribution to the wider community.

The nonmoral-first paradox, and especially the creativity paradox, high-lights how concern for nonmoral goods, for their sake, often contributesgreatly to moral goods. It reminds us that moral and nonmoral goods aremore tightly interwoven in human motivation than ethical theories usuallyallow. Ethical theorists do well to take fuller account how caring for nonmoralgoods, for their sake, contributes to morality.

Notes

1. Henry David Thoreau, Walden and Civil Disobedience (New York: Penguin Books, 1983),

p. 120.

2. Mike W. Martin, Virtuous Giving (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1994),

p. 151.

3. Adam Smith, An Inquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (New York:

Oxford University Press), p. 456.

4. Alcoholics Anonymous, 3rd edn. (New York: Alcoholics Anonymous World Services,

1976), p. 59.

5. John Stuart Mill, Autobiography (New York: Penguin Books, 1989), p. 117.

6. Henry Sidgwick, The Methods of Ethics, 7th edn. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,

1962), pp. 405–406. See also Robert Adams, “Motive Utilitarianism,” Journal of Philos-ophy 73 (1976).

7. H. G. Wells, Meanwhile (London: Ernest Benn limited, 1927), p. 37.

8. See J. Michael Bishop, How to Win the Nobel Prize (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University

Press, 2003), pp. 60–61.

9. See Eve Curie, Madame Curie, trans. Vincent Sheean (New York: Doubleday, Doran &

Company, 1938), and Susan Quinn, Marie Curie: A Life (Reading, Mass.: Perseus, 1995).

10. Ibid., pp. 108, 124.

11. James D. Watson, “The Double Helix” in Gunther S. Stent ed., The Double Helix (New

York: W.W. Norton, 1980), p. 116.

12. Ibid., pp. 3, 132.

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13. Robert K. Merton, “Making it Scientifically,” in Gunther S. Stent ed., The Double Helix,

p. 216. See also David L. Hull, Science as a Process (Chicago: University of Chicago

Press, 1988), p. 304, and Peter Godfrey-Smith, Theory and Reality (Chicago: University

of Chicago Press, 2003), p. 99.

14. Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue, 2nd edn. (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame

Press), pp. 188–190.

15. Cf. Mike W. Martin, Meaningful Work: Rethinking Professional Ethics (New York: Oxford

University Press, 2000), p. 185.

16. See Sharon Bertsch McGrayne, Nobel Prize Women in Science (New York: Carol Publish-

ing, 1993), p. 287.

17. See Robert L. Sinsheimer, “Review of The Double Helix” in Gunther S. Stent, ed., TheDouble Helix, pp. 191–194.

18. Cf. Kay Redfield Jamison, Exuberance: The Passion for Life (New York: Alfred A. Knopf,

2004), pp. 190–195.

19. James Watson, op. cit., p. 3.

20. Arnold Pacey, Meaning in Technology (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1999), pp. 171–198.

21. Richard P. Feynman, The Pleasure of Finding Things Out (Cambridge, Mass.: Perseus,

1999), pp. 231–232.

22. Harry G. Frankfurt, The Reasons of Love (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,

2004), p. 7.

23. Bernard Williams, Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Uni-

versity Press, 1985).

24. Bernard Williams, “Persons, Character and Morality,” in Bernard Williams, Moral Luck(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1981), p. 13.

25. Charles Taylor, The Ethics of Authenticity (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,

1992).

26. Albert Schweitzer, Goethe: Five Studies, trans. Charles R. Joy (Boston: Beacon Press,

1961), pp. 139–140.

27. James Rachels, The Elements of Moral Philosophy, 4th edn. (New York: McGraw-Hill,

2003), p. 198.

28. Linda Trinkaus Zagzebski, Virtues of the Mind (New York: Cambridge University Press,

1996), p. xiv. See also pp. 137–165.

paradoxes of moral motivation

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