What would an ethical egoist say about a situation in which self-interest and morality conflict?

Ethical egoism is the view that people ought to pursue their own self-interest, and no one has any obligation to promote anyone else’s interests. It is thus a normative or prescriptive theory: it is concerned with how people ought to behave. In this respect, ethical egoism is quite different from psychological egoism, the theory that all our actions are ultimately self-interested. Psychological egoism is a purely descriptive theory that purports to describe a basic fact about human nature.

Everyone pursuing his own self-interest is the best way to promote the general good. This argument was made famous by Bernard Mandeville (1670-1733) in his poem "The Fable of the Bees" and by Adam Smith (1723-1790) in his pioneering work on economics, "The Wealth of Nations." 

In a famous passage, Smith wrote that when individuals single-mindedly pursue “the gratification of their own vain and insatiable desires” they unintentionally, as if “led by an invisible hand,” benefit society as a whole. This happy result comes about because people generally are the best judges of what is in their own interest, and they are much more motivated to work hard to benefit themselves than to achieve any other goal.

An obvious objection to this argument, though, is that ​it doesn’t really support ethical egoism. It assumes that what really matters is the well-being of society as a whole, the general good. It then claims that the best way to achieve this end is for everyone to look out for themselves. But if it could be proved that this attitude did not, in fact, promote the general good, then those who advance this argument would presumably stop advocating egoism.

Another objection is that what the argument states is not always true. Consider the prisoner’s dilemma, for instance. This is a hypothetical situation described in game theory. You and a comrade, (call him X) are being held in prison. You are both asked to confess. The terms of the deal you are offered are as follows:

• If you confess and X doesn’t, you get six months and he gets 10 years.
• If X confesses and you don’t, he gets six months and you get 10 years.
• If you both confess, you both get five years.
•  If neither of you confesses, you both get two years.

Regardless of what X does, the best thing for you to do is confess. Because if he doesn’t confess, you’ll get a light sentence; and if he does confess, you’ll at least avoid getting extra prison time. But the same reasoning holds for X as well. According to ethical egoism, you should both pursue your rational self-interest. But then the outcome is not the best one possible. You both get five years, whereas if both of you had put your self-interest on hold, you’d each only get two years.

The point of this is simple. It isn’t always in your best interest to pursue your own self-interest without concern for others. Sacrificing your own interests for the good of others denies the fundamental value of your own life to yourself.

This seems to be the sort of argument put forward by Ayn Rand, the leading exponent of “objectivism” and the author of "The Fountainhead" and "Atlas Shrugged." Her complaint is that the Judeo-Christian moral tradition, which includes—or has fed into—modern liberalism and socialism, pushes an ethic of altruism. Altruism means putting the interests of others before your own. 

This is something people are routinely praised for doing, encouraged to do, and in some circumstances even required to do, such as when you pay taxes to support the needy. According to Rand, no one has any right to expect or demand that I make any sacrifices for the sake of anyone other than myself.

A problem with this argument is that it seems to assume that there is generally a conflict between pursuing your own interests and helping others. In fact, though, most people would say that these two goals are not necessarily opposed at all. Much of the time they complement one another. 

For instance, one student may help a housemate with her homework, which is altruistic. But that student also has an interest in enjoying good relations with her housemates. She may not help everyone in all circumstances, but she will help if the sacrifice involved is not too great. Most people behave like this, seeking a balance between egoism and altruism.

Ethical egoism is not a very popular moral philosophy. This is because it goes against certain basic assumptions that most people have regarding what ethics involves. Two objections seem especially powerful.

Ethical egoism has no solutions to offer when a problem arises involving conflicts of interest. Many ethical issues are of this sort. For example, a company wants to empty waste into a river; the people living downstream object. Ethical egoism advises that both parties actively pursue what they want. It doesn’t suggest any sort of resolution or commonsense compromise.

Ethical egoism goes against the principle of impartiality. A basic assumption made by many moral philosophers—and many other people, for that matter—is that we should not discriminate against people on arbitrary grounds such as race, religion, sex, sexual orientation or ethnic origin. But ethical egoism holds that we should not even try to be impartial. Rather, we should distinguish between ourselves and everyone else, and give ourselves preferential treatment.

To many, this seems to contradict the very essence of morality. The golden rule—versions of which appear in Confucianism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—says we should treat others as we would like to be treated. One of the greatest moral philosophers of modern times, ​Immanuel Kant (1724-1804), argued that the fundamental principle of morality (the “categorical imperative,” in his jargon) is that we should not make exceptions of ourselves. According to Kant, we shouldn’t perform an action if we cannot honestly wish that everyone would behave in a similar way in the same circumstances.

ethical egoism, in philosophy, an ethical theory according to which moral decision making should be guided entirely by self-interest. Ethical egoism is often contrasted with psychological egoism, the empirical claim that advancing one’s self-interest is the underlying motive of all human action.

One great advantage of ethical egoism over other normative theories is that it avoids any possible conflict between self-interest and morality. Another is that it makes moral behaviour by definition rational (on the plausible assumption that it is rational to pursue one’s own interests).

Ethical egoism departs from this consensus, because it asserts that moral decision making should be guided entirely by self-interest. One...

Two forms of ethical egoism may be distinguished. The position of the individual ethical egoist may be expressed as: “All people should do what is in my interests.” This is indeed ethical egoism, but it is incapable of being universalized (because it makes essential reference to a particular individual). Thus, it is arguably not an ethical principle at all. Nor, from a practical perspective, is the individual ethical egoist likely to be able to persuade others to follow a course of action that is so obviously designed to benefit only the person who is advocating it.

Universal ethical egoism is expressed in this principle: “All people should do what is in their own interests.” Unlike the individual principle, this principle is universalizable. Moreover, many self-interested people may be disposed to accept it, because it appears to justify acting on desires that conventional morality might prevent one from satisfying. Universal ethical egoism is occasionally seized upon by popular writers, including amateur historians, sociologists, and philosophers, who proclaim that it is the obvious answer to all of society’s ills; their views are usually accepted by a large segment of the general public. The American writer Ayn Rand is perhaps the best 20th-century example of this type of author. Her version of ethical egoism, as expounded in the novel Atlas Shrugged (1957) and in The Virtue of Selfishness (1965), a collection of essays, was a rather confusing mixture of appeals to self-interest and suggestions of the great benefits to society that would result from unfettered self-interested behaviour. Underlying this account was the tacit assumption that genuine self-interest cannot be served by lying, stealing, cheating, or other similarly antisocial conduct.

As this example illustrates, what starts out as a defense of universal ethical egoism very often turns into an indirect defense of consequentialism: the claim is that everyone will be better off if each person does what is in his or her own interests. Ethical egoists are virtually compelled to make this claim, because otherwise there is a paradox in the fact that they advocate ethical egoism at all. Such advocacy would be contrary to the very principle of ethical egoism, unless ethical egoists stand to benefit from others’ becoming ethical egoists. If their interests are such that they would be threatened by others’ pursuing their own interests, then they would do better to advocate altruism and to keep their belief in ethical egoism a secret.

Unfortunately for ethical egoism, the claim that everyone will be better off if each person does what is in his or her own interests is incorrect. This is shown by thought experiments known as “prisoners’ dilemmas,” which played an increasingly important role in discussions of ethical theory in the late 20th century (see also game theory). The basic prisoners’ dilemma is an imaginary situation in which two prisoners are accused of a crime. If one confesses and the other does not, the prisoner who confesses will be released immediately and the prisoner who does not will be jailed for 20 years. If neither confesses, each will be held for a few months and then released. And if both confess, each will be jailed for 15 years. It is further stipulated that the prisoners cannot communicate with each other. If each of them decides what to do purely on the basis of self-interest, each will realize that it is better for him or her to confess than not to confess, no matter what the other prisoner does. Paradoxically, when each prisoner acts selfishly—i.e., as an ethical egoist—the result is that both are worse off than they would have been if each had acted cooperatively.

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Although the example might seem bizarre, analogous situations occur quite frequently on a larger scale. Consider the dilemma of the commuter. Suppose that each commuter finds a private car a little more convenient than a bus, but when each commuter drives a car, the traffic becomes extremely congested. So everyone is better off in the situation where everyone takes the bus than in the situation where everyone drives a car. Because private cars are somewhat more convenient than buses, however, and because the overall volume of traffic is not appreciably affected by one more car on the road, it is in the interests of each commuter to continue driving. At least on the collective level, therefore, egoism is self-defeating—a conclusion well brought out by the English philosopher Derek Parfit in Reasons and Persons (1984).

The fact that ethical egoism is collectively self-defeating does not mean that it is wrong. An ethical egoist might still maintain that it is right for each person to pursue his or her own interests, even if this would bring about worse consequences for everyone. Although that position would not be self-contradictory, it would be “self-effacing,” since it would require ethical egoists to avoid promoting ethical egoism in public and to keep their true ethical beliefs a secret.