Enjoyment

What is it to enjoy something? An adequate answer should exhibit

systematic relations between two aspects of enjoyment. The first is that

enjoyment is something we feel. What we feel varies greatly; compare: the

watery relief of satisfying an urgent thirst; sexual gratification; a sudden whiff

of perfume; learning that one has received a fervently hoped for grant; the

thoughts, associations, and feelings aroused by reading the following lines

from the end of Faust, spoken by the angels who intervene to snatch Faust

from Mephistopheles: “Wer immer strebend sich bemüht,/Den können wir

erlösen.” The variety of feeling does not prevent enjoyment from plahing a

standard explanatory-justificatory role. This is the second of the two aspects

of enjoyment we have in mind: we appeal to enjoyment to explain and justify

both our own actions and the actions of others. One can, for example,

answer, “Why do you play so much chess?” with, “Because I enjoy it”; the

answer provides both an explanation and a justification.

We offer an account of enjoyment that exhibits systematic connections

between enjoyment as a feeling and its explanatory-justificatory role. We do

so by completing the following biconditional:

x enjoys Φ if and only if ... ,

where Φ is an experience or an activity of x. We understand “enjoys Φ” as

“enjoys Φ at a time t,” and as implying “x Φ's at t.” The restriction of values

of ‘Φ’ to experiences and activities may sight seem questionable. After all,

you can enjoy a meal or a painting, neither of which—needless to say—is an

experience or an activity. But, of course, you can enjoy the meal only if you

eat it; and the painting, only if you look at it; and, in general, where y is

something other than an experience or activity, one enjoys y if and only if

one enjoys Φ, where Φ is a suitable experience or activity involving y. The

restriction on values of ‘Φ’ involves no irrecoverable loss of generality. More

importantly, if one examines explanations of the form “because he or she

enjoys it”, one finds that what is enjoyed is always either explicitly or

implicitly understood to be an experience or an activity, and it is this primacy

in explanation that motivates restricting values of ‘Φ’ to experiences and

activities; for, as the explanations we advance show, we treat as derivative

the enjoyment of things other than experiences and activities.

The central idea behind our account of enjoyment is that enjoyment

consists in a harmony between three elements: the activity or experience; the

concepts which this activity or experience causes you to believe to apply to it;

and a desire to for the activity or experience so conceived. The harmony

consists in this: the activity or experience causes a desire which it

simultaneously causes one to believe is satisfied. The belief/desire pair plays a

key role in explanation and justification, and we will suggest that the key to

characterizing the way it feels to enjoy something is to note that the relevant

desire is a felt desire and the relevant belief an occurrent belief.

I. Enjoyment and Desire

We begin by noting that one enjoys Φ only if one desires Φ. We

understand ‘desire’ here in the broadest possible sense to include such

diverse sources of motivation as values, ideals, needs, commitments,

personal loyalties, and patterns of emotional reaction. Further, the desire to

Φ need not exist prior to one’s enjoying Φ. Suppose, for example, that you

find yourself cornered by a talking stranger with whom you have no initial

desire to converse; however, you eventually find yourself enjoying

conversing. Our claim is that as long as you enjoy conversing, you desire to

do so. This will seem to be a mistake to those who think that one can only

properly be said to desire that which one lacks; however, that is not our

conception of desire. We conceive of a desire as a state that not only causes

one to seek what one lacks, but to persist once one finds it.1

In support of the claim that desiring to Φ is necessary condition of

enjoying Φ, imagine you are listening to an indifferently performed piano

piece. The pianist is your friend. You know he will ask you if you enjoyed the

performance, and you know that that you will say you did. In hopes of

1 As this example illustrates, I can desire to 9 during an interval of time t even when I am, and know I am, (ping throughout t. This will seem counterintuitive to those who see desire as related to a "perceived lack," but it should cause no problems to those who think of desires as states that move us to action. See, for example, Brian O'Shaughnessy, The Will (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), 2, p. 295f.: "A brief word on desire. When action occurs, it is in the final analysis this phenomenon that underlies all of the workings of the act generative mental ma¬chinery." Thus desire is what explains my acting so as to maintain ongoing expe¬riences and activities whose occurrence I want, even when I know such experiences are occurring (compare quotes from Hobbes below). O'Shaughnessy characterizes desire as a "striving towards an act of fulfillment" (2, p. 296). In this, he agrees with Aristotle; the root meaning of Aristotle's most general word for desire-'orexis'-is "a reaching out after." Plato is one source of the "perceived lack" view (see the Symposium, for example). This view is indefensible as a general characterization of desire. The problem is revealed by Hobbes. In the Leviathan, Hobbes characterizes desire as an "endeavour . . . toward something which causes it," but he restricts the use of 'desire' to cases in which the object of desire is absent. However, he then notes: "that which men desire, they are also said to LOVE: and to HATE those things for which they have aversion. So that desire and love are the same thing; save that by desire, we always signify the absence of the object; by love most commonly the presence of the same. So also by aversion we signify the absence; and by hate, the presence of the object" (Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, in The English Works of Thomas Hobbes, ed. Sir William Molesworth [London: John Bohn, 1939]). Surely, Hobbes is right. If desire requires the absence of the object, we need a word for that attitude that is just like desire except that its object is present-the attitude that explains why one would resist removal of the object. Remove the object and this attitude is 'desire'. But then why not just say that 'love' and 'desire' are just the same state-whether the object is present or absent? Or at least say that 'love' and 'desire' are instances of some single generic desire-state? As Hobbes says, "love and desire are the same thing."

avoiding an unconvincing lie, you are trying to enjoy it; unfortunately, the

indifferent performance leaves you indifferent—neither desiring to listen, nor

desiring not to listen. The complete absence of any desire to listen to the

music certainly seems sufficient to show you not are enjoying listening to it.

The following considerations provide reinforce this conclusion. Imagine Smith

was attending a party which he left after only staying a short while; he

complains that he wanted nothing the party had to offer. He mitigates these

complaints, however, by confessing that the party was not completely

wretched, and that he actually enjoyed it a little. If this confession is

consistent with Smith's claim that he wanted nothing the party had to offer,

then Smith enjoys the party without any relevant desire. But why should one

grant that the confession and the claim are consistent? Suppose we ask

Smith what it was that he enjoyed about the party. Smith might refuse to

answer this question, for he might insist that he just enjoyed attending the

party without enjoying any particular aspect of the party. For the moment,

however, let's suppose he answers us by saying that he enjoyed dancing, but

he denies he wanted to dance, and he does not merely mean that he did not

desire to dance prior to dancing, he means that, throughout the time he was

purportedly enjoying dancing, he simply did not desire to dance. As in the

indifferently-performed-music example, the complete lack of a desire to

dance seems sufficient to establish that Smith did not enjoy dancing. The

same considerations would apply if Smith said that what he enjoyed was not

dancing but talking with friends, or listening to music, or watching the people,

or whatever. In fact, it is difficult to see how Smith can provide any

convincing answer to the question of what it was about the party that he

enjoyed. But, as we already noted, Smith may reject the question and insist

that, while he, neither desired nor enjoyed any particular thing the party had

to offer, he nonetheless enjoyed attending the party. Suppose that this is

what Smith does, and suppose that he also insists that, even though he

enjoyed attending the party, he did not want to be there at all. Is this

sufficient to cast doubt on the claim that desiring to Φ is a necessary

condition of enjoying Φ? Surely not. Smith at no time desires to attend the

party, and does not have any desire for anything the party has to offer-

dancing, music, conversations with friends, or anything else. This is a crystal

clear example of not enjoying a party.

Desiring to Φ is a necessary condition of enjoying Φ; it is, however,

clearly not a sufficient condition. You may desire to go to the dentist even

though dental treatment is for you an ordeal of discomfort and anxiety. You

desire to go only as a means to the end of adequate dental health, and you

most certainly do not enjoy the experience. The obvious response is to

distinguish between desiring something for its own sake and desiring

something only as a means to an end. Roughly, to desire that p for its own

sake is to desire p and not to desire it merely as a means to an end;2 and,

second, that to desire that p merely as a means to an end is for there to be

an end E such that one would not desire p if one did not desire E and believe

that p was a means to E. This explanation needs refinement, however. To

see why, suppose that, as Victoria desires to looking at impressionist 2 A grammatical question: what does the `its' refer to in "one desires p for its own sake"? To the proposition p. It is a certain state of affairs—p's obtaining—that one desires for its own sake. Every use we make of the notion of desire for its own sake could be cast in this propositional form. We will, however, for convenience say that someone “desires to Φ for its own sake' where, on the face of it, the ‘its’ refers back (ungrammatically) to an infinitive.

paintings for its own sake. She is currently looking at Mary Cassatt’s Lydia

Leaning on Her Arms. She correctly believes it to be an impressionist work,

Assume that, if she did not so believe, she would not desire to look at it;

imagine, for example, she is writing a book on impressionist painting, and is

so pressed for time, that she would simply have no desire to look at paintings

in any other style. Does Victoria desire to look at Lydia Leaning on Her Arms

for its own sake? Either answer is defensible; however, according to the

above definition, the answer is “No,” and we prefer to answer “Yes.” After

all, Victoria desires looking at impressionist paintings for its own sake, and

the only way she can get what she desires for its own sake is by looking at

some particular instance of an impressionist painting. Victoria is correct that

Lydia Leaning on Her Arms is an impressionist painting, so, in looking at it,

Victoria is realizing what she desires for its own sake. There is moreover, a

clear contrast between Victoria’s desire to look at the painting and paradigm

cases of not desiring something for its own sake, cases like desiring to drink

coffee merely as a means to staying awake. Drinking coffee is contingently

related to staying awake: one can employ the means yet fail to achieve the

end. Victoria, however, cannot employ the means of looking at Lydia Leaning

on Her Arms and fail to achieve the end of looking at impressionist paintings.

The "means" is an instance of the end. We regard such cases as instances of

desiring something for its own sake. We revise the definition of desiring

something for its own sake to restrict the “means/end” terminology to cases

in which the means is contingently related to the end. Thus, to desire that p

for its own sake is to desire p and not to desire p merely as a—contingently

related—means to an end.

Simplicity argues for the following account: one enjoys Φ if and only if

one desires Φ for its own sake. There are clear counterexamples, however.

Suppose that you have never been deep-sea fishing and that you desire to go

for its own sake. You may nonetheless fail to experience enjoyment when

you satisfy this desire. Imagine that you find the entire experience of deep-

sea fishing distasteful. You get seasick; you are disgusted by the crowded,

noisy deck from which you must fish; you are repelled by the necessity of

barehandedly catching the small, live fish used for bait, and you are even

more repelled by the fact that, once you have succeeded in grabbing the

bait, you have to impale it by the gills on your hook. But your desire to fish

survives the initial shock of these experiences, and so you continue to fish

even though you admit to yourself that you are not enjoying it. In fact, you

only continue to fish because you hope that you will enjoy it. At the moment,

however, your desire to fish is waning. It persists, but it persists despite your

experiences, and it is only the hope that things will change that keeps it

alive.

Desiring Φ for its own sake is a necessary but not sufficient condition of

enjoying Φ. A continuation of the deep-sea fishing example points the way to

a sufficient condition. Suppose a large fish suddenly strikes your line, and all

of your attention is immediately focused on the fight to land it. Your seasick

feeling, your impinging awareness of the crowded deck, and your qualms

about catching the live bait are instantly eclipsed by the excitement of the

fight; moreover, after you have landed the fish, you find that you are no

longer seasick. The deck no longer seems inhospitably crowded but full of

cooperative people who are congratulating you on your catch. Even catching

513

and hooking the live bait now seems just one of those necessities which

disquiet only the uninitiated. You find now that you want to fish not in spite

of, but because of your experiences. You are—as you now realize—enjoying

it. The characterization of this transformation reveals how to formulate an

adequate definition of enjoyment.

II. A Definition of Enjoyment

The transformation consists in changes in your beliefs and desires caused

by your catching the large fish; it is that activity that leads to your wanting to fish,

not in spite of, but because of, your experiences. Two preliminary points are in

order. The first is that our talk of causation is to be understood in the context

of everyday causal explanations. The identification of causes in such

explanations is highly pragmatic. For example, when eight-year-old Sally

asks her mother why the mill wheel turns, her mother replies that the wheel

turns because the water strikes it. When Sally, now an undergraduate, is

working on a similar homework problem for her Physics course, her answer

includes a calculation of the friction in the mill’s system. Our only claim

about everyday causal explanations is that we can, and do, make distinctions

of the sort illustrated by the Jones example—between convictions that persist

in spite of, not because of one’s experiences, and convictions that persist

because of, not in spite of, them.

The second point concerns a convention for describing the beliefs and

desires involved. The need for the convention is particularly pressing when

we generalize from our description of the deep-sea fishing example. When

we do so, we will combine quantifiers with the verbs ‘believes’ and ‘desires’;

such quantification can lead to problems unless care is taken. Our solution is

to adopt the following standard Quinean convention. Where ‘[’ and ‘]’ are the

left and right Quinean corner quotes, a singular term [t] may be substituted

salva veritate for a term [t'] in the context [ ... desires (or believes), of t, that .

. .] given the true identity [t = t’].

Now we turn to describing the transformation in your beliefs and desires.

We consider the change in belief first. It is clear that your activity of deep-sea

fishing—the non-repeatable, individual event—plays a central casual role in

the changing the way you think about your deep-sea fishing changes. You no

longer, for example, see the deck as crowed but as full of cooperative people

congratulating you on your catch. Grabbing the live bait is no longer

repulsive, but merely a necessity that disquiets only the uninitiated. And so

on. In general, you used to believe, of your deep-sea fishing, that it

exemplified an array of features A, and now you believe, of it, that it

exemplifies a new and distinct array A’.

A change in your desires parallels this change in your beliefs. After

you land the fish, you desire to our deep-sea fishing as an activity that

includes the excitement of landing a large fish, the camaraderie of the deck,

and so on. To describe this change in a sufficiently clear way, we need to

refine our Quinean convention for describing beliefs and desires. To this end,

suppose that, as we are looking at the horses in the paddock, you say,

pointing to a particular horse, “I want to bet on the long-shot.” In saying this,

you are referring by ‘the long-shot’ to the horse at which you point, and so it

is certainly true to say that you desire, of this horse, that you should bet on it.

Moreover—and this is the essential point—you do more than merely refer to

516

the horse by your description, ‘the long-shot’.3 By using that description, you

also indicate a feature of the horse that recommends it to you as a desirable

bet. We can express this involvement of the feature being a long-shot in your

desire by saying that you desire, of the horse, under the feature being a long-

shot, that you should bet on it. This is to be understood in such a way that,

to satisfy this desire, not only must you bet on the horse, it must also be a

long shot. Part of what you want is to bet on a long-shot.

To return to the deep-sea fishing example, the essential point is that

the change in what you believe causes a parallel change in what you desire.

You come to believe, of your deep-sea fishing, that it exemplifies the array A’

of features—being on a deck full of cooperative people congratulating you on

your catch, and so; and, as a result, you desire, of your deep-sea fishing,

under A’, that it occur. This description of your desire requires one

qualification. The problem is that the array A’ that your activity causes you

to believe it has may include, for example, using a Shimano TLD 2-Speed

reel, and you need not desire, of your activity, under the feature using a

Shimano TLD 2-Speed reel, that it occur. As long as whatever reel you are

using works adequately, you may be indifferent about what brand of reel you

use. More precisely, then, there is some sub-array A* of A’ such that you

believe, of your deep-sea fishing, that it has A* where you also desire, of that

activity, under A*, that it occur.

A final point: the activity does not merely cause you to desire, of your

activity, under A*, that it occur. It causes you to desire that for its own sake.

You do not desire the excitement of landing a large fish, the camaraderie of

the deck, and so on as a mere means to an end. You want the excitement for 3 Donnellan cases.

the sake of the excitement and the camaraderie for the sake of the

camaraderie. This is a key characteristic of enjoyment: an enjoyed

experience or activity is one with the power to make one desire for its

occurrence for its own sake. It is a beneficent power. It also ensures the—at

least apparent—satisfaction of the very desire it causes. Not only does one’s

experience or activity make one desire its occurrence for it own sake, it also

makes one believe one is getting exactly what one wants. We take

enjoyment to consist in this causal harmony between an experience or an

activity, and the belief/desire pair it causes.

We offer the following preliminary definition of enjoyment.

x enjoys Φ if and only if, for some array A of features,

(1) x Φ’s;

(2) x's Φing causes x

(a) to believe, of Φ, that it has A, and

(b) to desire, of Φ, under A, that it occur for its own sake.

As we discuss in Section IV, the belief/desire pair typically functions as a

reason to act so as to ensure occurrence and/or continued existence of

the experience or activity Φ. However, before turning to the

explanatory/justificatory dimension of enjoyment, we discuss its felt aspect.

III. Feeling

Despite the diversity of feelings associated with enjoyment, it is

possible to give any informative generalization about what it feels like to

enjoy something: namely, the felt aspect of enjoyment consists in having a

felt desire to Φ at precisely the same time that one occurrently believes that

518

one is Φing. The first step in making this plausible is to clarify the concepts

of a felt desire and an occurrent belief. A felt desire is a desire one is aware

of in—roughly—the way one is aware of an insistent thirst. “Roughly”

because the desire feels differently in different cases—sexual gratification, a

sudden whiff of perfume, the first moment at which one understands Cantor’s

diagonal argument, reading lines spoken by the angels at the end of Faust:

“Wer immer strebend sich bemüht,/Den können wir erlösen.” Awareness of

one’s desire to read the lines need not take the form of the insistent urge as

in the thirst example. One’s consciousness may be filled with an appreciation

of the significance of the lines in the overall context of Faust, with whatever

feelings and associations the lines engender, and one’s awareness of one’s

desire may take the form of an awareness of the appreciation, feelings, and

associations as suffused with desire. In the deep-sea fishing case, one may

be aware of desiring the excitement of landing a large fish, but this

awareness may occupy the background with one’s concentration on working

the reel, pumping the rod, and moving as the fish moves occupying the

foreground.

Similar remarks hold for occurrent belief. An occurrent belief is a belief

that is before one's mind—in the way that the belief that you are reading this

sentence is now before your mind. This is not to say that every occurrent

belief is before your mind in just this way. An occurrent belief is a belief that

manifests itself to consciousness in a way more or less like the way that

belief manifests itself. There are distinctions of degree to draw here, for

beliefs may linger at the periphery of self-consciousness. For example, early

in the day you receive some good news—that you do not need the operation

that your doctor first thought you would. For the rest of the day, the belief

that the operation is unnecessary lingers on the periphery of self-

consciousness. It is not always before your mind in the way that the belief

about reading the sentence is, but you have it "in mind" all day. It contrasts

in this way with your belief, for example, that Washington, D.C., is the capital

of the United States. You are never, during the entire day, aware even in the

slightest degree of that belief. Occurrent beliefs form a continuum—from

those beliefs that are before one's mind in the way that the belief about

reading the sentence is to those beliefs that linger on the periphery of self-

consciousness. Similar remarks hold for felt desires, for they, like beliefs,

may linger on the periphery of self-consciousness (e.g., on a sunny day, one's

desire to sail may, while one is occupied with other activities, linger on the

edge of self-consciousness).

Finally, it is important for phenomenological accuracy not to assume

too sharp a distinction between the sensory, on the one hand, and the

cognitive and affective, on the other. Imagine tasting the bitter-sweet

chocolate. When the taste makes you want the experience, the sensory and

the affective are mixed together in the state "experiencing/desiring the

taste." The experience and the desire arise together in a state with both

sensory and affective aspects. The same is true for belief: when you taste

the bitter-sweet chocolate, the experience of the bitter-sweet taste and the

belief that the taste is bitter-sweet are mixed together in the state of

"experiencing/believing" that the taste is bitter-sweet. The feeling of

enjoyment is an inextricable mixture of an experience or activity, an

occurrent belief, and a felt desire. The immense variety in the feelings

associated with enjoyment is the result of the variety of experiences and

activities enjoyed. The water relief of satisfying an urgent thirst differs from

the feeling of sexual gratification or from the feelings associated with deep-

sea fishing in part because relieving a thirst feels different than sexual

gratification and both differ from the feelings associated with deep-sea

fishing. They differ in part because relevant desires feel different, and

because occurrently believing that one is feeling sexual gratification is not

like occurrently believing that one is satisfying a thirst or occurrently

believing that one is deep-sea fishing. But there is no need to claim that the

differences in belief and desire fully account for the difference; they simply

contribute to it.

It lends support to this account of the feeling of enjoyment to note that

attributions of felt desires and occurrent beliefs can play an important

descriptive and explanatory/justificatory role. Suppose Jones Jillian are

listening to a jazz band play a Miles Davis song at the Green Dolphin jazz

club. Assume Jones enjoys listening to the music. More specifically, assume:

his experience of listening to the music causes him to have the felt desire, of

his experience of listening to the music, under the feature being good jazz,

that it occur for its own sake, and to occurrently believe, of that experience,

that it an experience of listening to good jazz. Suppose also, however, that

Jones does not know the first thing about what makes jazz good, and so, as

he listens to the music, he is unable to identify any feature that makes it

good. He only believes what he is listening to is good jazz because, and only

because, he listening to the music at the Green Dolphin, and he believes that

the Green Dolphin hires good jazz musicians. Compare Jillian’s experience.

Jillian is a jazz connoisseur, and, as she listens to the music, the experience

causes her (1) to have the occurrent belief, of that experience, that it has an

array A of features, features she regards as making the particular music she

is listening to good jazz; and (2) to desire, of that experience, under A, that it

occur, for its own sake. Jillian’s felt desire and occurrent belief are articulated

in a way Jones’s are not. Jillian’s focus on an organized array of specific

good-making features; Jone’s have no such focus; they merely by inference

subsume the experience under the feature good jazz. This descriptive

difference in the felt-aspect of their enjoyments corresponds to a difference

in explanatory and justificatory roles. Suppose, after the Miles Davis piece

concludes, Jillian requests that the band play some Coltrane. When Jones

asks her why she requested Coltrane, she explains and justifies her request

by noting that she enjoyed the Miles Davis piece for electric instrument

combination of jazz, funk, and R & B, and the Coltrane piece she requested is

similar and that she expects to enjoy that too. Jones, who also enjoyed the

Miles Davis song, and also expects he would enjoy something similar, did not

identify anything particular features of his experience that could serve as a

basis for a specific request.

We offer the following definition of enjoyment.

x enjoys Φ if and only if for some array A of features

(1) x Φ’s;

(2) x's Φing causes x

(a) to occurrently believe, of Φ, that it has A, and

(b) to have the felt desire, of Φ, under A, that it occur for its own sake.

518

Note that one will not always desire to continue to Φ. I may enjoy writing the

last word of an essay, and it would certainly be implausible to suggest that I

desire to continue to write the last word. The most plausible view of what I

desire here is that I desire that my writing down the last word should occur.

The following apparent counterexample illustrates the definition.

Imagine a terminal cancer patient in constant, excruciating pain. His

daughter kisses him; his experience of the kiss causes him to believe he is

kissing his daughter, and to desire the experience for its own sake; however,

he is too miserable to enjoy anything. Our answer is that it only seems

obvious that the patient could not enjoy the kiss. The appearance is the

result of an equivocation on “enjoy” when one says the patient is “too

miserable to enjoy anything.” Sometimes when one says, “I enjoy it,” one

may suggest or imply that the enjoyment is “pure”—unmixed with any

significant degree of pain, distaste, or aversion. Suppose, for example, that I

enjoy gossiping about my colleagues. I also hate myself when I do it, but this

does not keep me from yielding to temptation as three of us meet in the hall.

I enjoy imparting and learning the latest, but this enjoyment competes with a

growing and distinctly unpleasant sense of shame and guilt; indeed, the

enjoyment feeds this sense of shame, for I hate myself all the more for

enjoying gossiping. Overall my experience is one of conflict—enjoyment

mixed with aversion.

If you asked me, “Did you enjoy gossiping?”, it would be misleading to

answer with an unqualified, “Yes.” That would make you think that the

enjoyment was untainted by any significant admixture of aversion. This does

not mean that it is false that I enjoyed gossiping. On the contrary, I did;

indeed, it was the enjoyment that fuelled the aversion. It just means my

answer must take the form, “Yes, but ...”. Similarly, it would (or could) be

misleading in the cancer case to say that the patient enjoyed the kiss—if this

should be taken to suggest that the enjoyment was not mixed with a

significant degree of pain. But this does not mean the patient cannot enjoy

the kiss. Of course, it may happen that the man kisses his daughter; desires

to kiss his daughter; desires the kissing for its own sake; believes he is

kissing his daughter; yet does not enjoy kissing her. And our account of

enjoyment explains why. To enjoy the kiss, the kiss must cause, or causally

sustain his desire to kiss his daughter, but the man may be in such pain that

the experience simply cannot causally sustain the desire. This would be a

case of being “too miserable to enjoy” the kiss. On the other hand, if the

experience of the kiss does cause, or causally sustain, the relevant belief and

desire, we see no reason to deny that the man enjoys the kiss.

A more serious objection to the account is that it is committed, so to

speak, to a Bentham-like view about push-pin and poetry. Bentham

infamously argued that, with regard to the arts and sciences, “the value

which possess, is exactly in proportion to the pleasure they yield”; hence that

“[p]rejudice apart, the game of push-pin is of equal value with the arts and

sciences of music and poetry.”4 Although we by no means embrace the

equation of comparative value with the proportion of pleasure produced, the

definition of enjoyment does not draw any distinction between, for example,

enjoying chess and enjoying chocolate. To see the difficulty, note first that

4 Bentham, The Rationale of Reward. Push-pin was a gambling game in which the players place pins on the brim of a hat, and, taking turns, tapped on the brim in order to try to make the pins cross. The player who succeeded kept both pins.

the former enjoyment may engage one’s abilities and one’s character in a

way the latter does not. Suppose, for example, that Smith enjoys playing

chess for the experience of maintaining forces in dynamic tension in way that

calls for creativity, courage, and practical judgment in an exercise of intuition

and calculation akin to both mathematics and art. He also enjoys the taste of

chocolate. He just, that is, enjoys an undifferentiated chocolate taste; he is

not a chocolate gourmet who is aware of chocolate’s manifold possibilities

and can locate particular chocolate taste in a complex of similar

discriminations. Everyone distinguishes between the two types of enjoyment

—between enjoyments that significantly engage one’s abilities and character

and those that do not, and, while people differ the proportion of each type of

enjoyment they seek, no one would opt for a life without any enjoyments that

significantly engaged one’s abilities and character.

The objection is that our definition does not distinguish between these

two types of enjoyment; it simply gets filled out the same way for both. The

objection is not of course that we should try to distinguish between these two

enjoyments in the definition of enjoyment. Both enjoyments are after all

enjoyments, and the definition should capture what is common to them. The

objection is that there is more to say than we have so far said. Our goal is an

informative and illuminating account of enjoyment, and we fall short of that

goal if we do not explain how to distinguish between the two types of

enjoyment. To say more, we first divide enjoyments into two groups; the

differentiating factor is the presence or absence of a certain sorts of reasons

to have the relevant experience or engage in the relevant activity. This

distinction provides an illuminating perspective on the distinction between

enjoyments that engage one’s abilities and character in ways others do not.

The first step is to distinguish between two kinds of reasons.

IV. Two Kinds of Reasons

A reason to engage in an activity is a reason for action; so is—in the

sense we intend—a reason to have an experience. By a reason to have an

experience, we mean a reason to act so as to initiate or ensure the

continuance of an experience. To distinguish between the two types of

reasons, we first ask, what is it for something to be a reason for action?

We begin with the observation that reasons typically play a

characteristic motivational-justificatory role. An example: Smith devotes

considerable time to chess; he studies the game, analyzes his past games,

seeks out chess partners, browses in the chess section of bookstores, and so

on. When asked why he engages in these activities, he explains that a well-

played game displays the beauty of forces in dynamic tension and reveals

creativity, courage, and practical judgment in an exercise of intuition and

calculation akin to both mathematics and art. These considerations motivate

him to engage in a variety of activities (he wants the kind of enjoyment he

characterizes in this way); and, they serve as his justification for performing

the actions they motivate (he takes it that this sort of enjoyment is worth

having). We take it to be clear that reasons play a distinctive motivational-

justificatory role. We will not, however, offer any further characterization of

that role. This does not involve any objectionable circularity. We are not

trying to define the distinctive motivational-justificatory role; we are

assuming an understanding of that role and using it to distinguish between

two types of reasons.

One further point is in order, however. The chess example involves the

explicit articulation of reasons, and this may suggest the implausibly

rationalistic view that a reason always plays its motivational-justificatory role

through explicit reasoning prior to action. Worse yet in the context of our

discussion of beauty, it may associate reasons for action with dispassionate

reflection. This is not to deny the obvious fact that reasons sometimes do

operate explicitly and dispassionately. For example, reflecting on his need to

improve his ability to blend strategy and tactics, Smith may—explicitly and

even dispassionately—reason his way to the conclusion that he should study

former world champion Mikhail Tal’s games. The same reasons, however,

could operate implicitly and in the presence of passion. Imagine that Smith,

without prior reasoning, accidentally happens on a collection of Tal’s games

while wandering around a bookstore to kill time. The collection catches his

eye; the conviction, “I need this!” takes hold of him and he straightaway

decides to buy the book. The thought and the decision occur against the

background of an emotion-laden memory of a recent bitter defeat caused by

his lack of skill in blending strategy and tactics. Despite the passion and lack

of explicit reasoning, the same reasons that figure in the explicit reasoning

may also operate in this case. If Smith were later asked why he bought the

book, it would hardly be odd for him to give a reason by saying, “I realized I

needed to study Tal’s games to improve my ability to blend strategy and

tactics.” In doing so he would not only be justifying his choice, he would be

identifying his motives. While on occasion we treat such after the fact

rationalizations skeptically, as the likely products of self-deception or

fabrication, on the whole they are part and parcel of the routine conduct of

everyday life, and we generally accept them unless we have specific grounds

for doubt.5

These observations suggest an initial account of reasons for action: a

psychological state (or complex of such states) is a reason for a person to

perform an action if and only if the state (or states) plays, or would in

appropriate circumstances play, the relevant motivational-justificatory role.

We drop the “or complex of such states” qualification from now on. There is

no need to take a position on the long-standing debate about what sort of

psychological state is required to explain the motivational dimension of

reasons. Some—crudely, “Humeans”—will insist that Smith’s beliefs about

chess are never sufficient on their own to motivate; they must always be

supplemented by a separate motivational state—a desire, hope, aspiration,

an allegiance to an ideal, or some such thing. Others—crudely, “Kantians”—

will insist that a separate motivational state is not always required; a belief

may, in appropriate circumstances, motivate on its own. Each view tends in

the direction of the other. Plausible Humeans interpret “desire” broadly to

include such diverse sources of motivation as values, ideals, needs,

commitments, personal loyalties, and patterns of emotional reaction;

plausible Kantians refer to such sources of motivation to explain why the

same belief may motivate one person but not another. There is, however, no

need to opt for one view or the other; everything we say is consistent with 5 See the excellent account of after-the-fact attribution of reasons in Paul Grice, Aspects of Reason (Oxford University Press, 2001); see also the related discussion of “deeming” in the attribution of intentions in Paul Grice, “Meaning Revisited,” in Paul Grice, Studies in the Ways of Words (Harvard University Press, 1969).

either. We should, however, emphasize one merely terminological point: We

will, for convenience, describe beliefs as reasons; one should read in

whatever motivational factor one thinks is also required. We will abandon

this terminological convention in cases which it is both clear and important

that a particular belief/desire pair serves as a reason.

The suggested initial account conceives of reasons as beliefs that do,

or would, play a certain motivational-justificatory role. The difficulty is that a

belief can be a reason even if it does not, and would not, play the relevant

role. Thus: Robert is a prominent wine critic. His doctor informs him he has

severe and chronic gout, and must, on pain of destroying his health and

ultimately his life, stop drinking the French wines in which he delights.

Robert persists nonetheless; he thinks of himself as a badly injured warrior

who, although doomed to defeat, defiantly refuses to cease fighting for his

ideal—Robert’s ideal being the refinement of taste as a source of pleasure.

When his friends try to change his mind, their arguments fall on deaf ears.

Robert acknowledges that if others were in his situation, the health

considerations would, for them, serve as a compelling reason to choose good

health over the delight of fine wine; but, as he emphasizes, those

considerations play no such role for him. He takes pride in this, seeing it as a

sign of the depth of his commitment.

The friends nonetheless think the health considerations are a reason

for Robert to abandon his gourmet pursuits, a reason Robert ignores. The

friends of course realize that the health considerations do not, for Robert,

play the motivational-justificatory role of a reason; their position is that those

considerations should play that role. They think the considerations are a

reason in this “should play” sense. This is not to say that the friends think

considerations should be decisive (although they may); playing a

motivational-justificatory role does not mean playing a decisive role. In

general, a belief can be a reason for a person even if it does not in fact play

the motivational-justificatory role of a reason for that person. Indeed, the

person need not have the belief. If Robert did not believe that his gourmet

pursuits were threatening his health, the friends would still think that he

should form that belief and that it should play the motivational-justificatory

role of a reason.

One way to accommodate examples like Robert is to define a reason

for action as follows: a psychological state is a reason for a person to

perform an action if and only if it should be the case that the state plays, or

would in appropriate circumstances play, the characteristic motivational-

justificatory role of a reason. This, however, has a somewhat uncomfortable

consequence illustrated by the following example. The philosophy

department has convened a faculty meeting to vote on Tom’s application for

tenure. Charles has no doubt that Tom is a superb teacher and a prolific and

brilliant author, and he realizes that the rest of the faculty present at the

meeting find Tom a model of generosity, graciousness, and urbanity.

Charles, however, finds Tom annoying for the very urbane generosity and

graciousness that has so charmed Charles colleagues. Charles casts his

secret ballot vote against Tom on the ground that he is annoying. Thus,

Charles’s belief that Tom is annoying plays a motivational-justificatory role in

determining Charles vote. Charles regards the belief as justifying the vote

because, as he says to himself and his closest confidant, he should not have

to tolerate a tenured-Tom’s permanent annoying presence. The confidant is

shocked. He thinks that Charles’ belief that Tom is annoying should not have

played any motivational-justificatory role in determining Charles’ vote; the

confident thinks Charles’s particular emotional reaction to Tom is simply

irrelevant to the question of whether Tom merits tenure (the confidant’s

position is not that all such reactions are irrelevant, just that Charles’s is in

this particular case). Now suppose the confident is asked what reason

Charles had for voting against Tom (the secret ballot having turned out not to

be so secret). It would hardly be improper to answer, “He finds Tom

annoying.” Under the suggested definition, however, the confidant cannot

answer in this way—not without significant qualification. Charles’ belief that

Tom is annoying is a reason for Charles to vote against Tom only if should

play a reason’s characteristic motivational-justificatory role in determining

how to vote, and the confidant thinks it should play no such role. The most

the confidant can say is that Charles thought (mistakenly on the confidant’s

view) that there was a reason to vote against Tom.

We think a different approach to defining reasons yields better

descriptive and explanatory tools. The approach distinguishes between

having a reason and there being a reason. Charles “has a reason” in this

sense: Charles’s belief that Tom is annoying plays a reason’s motivational-

justificatory role in determining Charles vote. We will say the belief is an

active reason (a reason Charles has). In general, a belief is an active reason

for a person if and only if it does, or would in appropriate circumstances, play

the motivational-justificatory role of a reason for that person. The confidant

can then answer, “What reason did Charles have for voting against Tom?”

with, “He finds him annoying.” None of this, however, prevents us from

recognizing that, from the confidant’s perspective, Charles’s belief that Tom

annoys him should not be an active reason for Charles to vote against Tom.

We will say in such a case that there is no normative reason for Charles to

vote against Tom. The point of the label “normative” is just to provide a

convenient contrast with our earlier use of the label “active” in “active

reason.” Normative reasons are propositions. A proposition p is a normative

reason for a person if and only if it (1) the person believes p, or the person

should believe p, and (2) that belief should function as active reason. Robert

and Charles illustrate the definition. The friends regard the proposition that

Robert’s gourmet pursuits are destroying his health as a normative reason for

Robert to curtail those pursuits. The friends think he either does or should

believe that his life-style is destroying his health, and they think that belief

play the role of an active reason. Similarly, in the confidant’s eyes, Charles

lacks a normative reason to vote against Tom because his belief that Tom is

annoying should not (in the confidant’s eyes) serve as an active reason.

Charles would of course disagree. He justifies his “no” vote on the ground

that he should not have to permanently tolerate Tom, so surely he thinks that

his belief that Tom is annoying should play the relevant motivational-

justificatory role. In general, a belief cannot a certain time play a

motivational-justificatory role for one without one believing at that time (or at

least being committed to believing) that it should play that role at that time.

Charles could of course change his mind. Imagine that, after now-tenured

Tom publishes his review praising Charles work, Charles finds Tom easier to

tolerate, and decides that, even before the publication of the review, he

should have tolerated Tom and was not justified in having voted against him.

There are of course competing accounts of when normative reasons

exist. Different views see the existence as dependent on various factors—

values, ideals, needs, commitments, the existence of some divinity, and the

like. To the extent the view holds that disagreements about the existence of

normative reasons are not rationally resolvable, the view embraces a degree

of relativism.6 On such views, Robert’s values (or whatever) may be

sufficiently different than the friends’ values (or whatever) that there is a

normative reason from their perspective but not from his. We will not

address such relativistic claims here, and everything we say will be

consistent with any plausible relativism.7 Relativists just need to add

whatever relativization they think is required.

V. Enjoyment and Reasons

As we noted earlier, we divide enjoyments into two groups, where the

differentiating factor is the presence or absence of a certain sort of reason.

Enjoyments in which the reason is present engage one’s abilities and

character in way enjoyments in which the reason is absent do not. We return

to the chess example to illustrate the former group. In that example, Smith

enjoys playing chess for the experience of calculative/intuitive display of

6 Richard Rorty defines relativism as the view that one set of beliefs (theories, values, whatever) is a good as (as justified as, as acceptable as, whatever) any other. This is not the relativism we have in mind here. One can consistently think (1) that one has disagreements with others that; (2) that those others are not irrational; (3) and that one’s views are better than theirs. 7 This is not say that we endorse any form of relativism.

creativity, courage, and practical judgment required to forces in dynamic

tension. Thus, imagine Smith is playing a game; the experience causes him

to believe occurrently, of it, that it exhibits the relevant array A of features,

and to desire, of the experience, under A, that it occur for its own sake. In

addition, we claim that the belief/desire pair also functions—or at least will,

other things being equal, function—as an active reason to have the

experience as an experience that exhibits the feature in A. The belief/desire

pair is an active reason if it plays, or would in appropriate circumstances play,

the relevant motivational-justificatory role. Other things being equal, the

belief/desire pair will both motivate Smith to continue to play so as to ensure

that the experience continues, and justify (be part of his justification) for

doing so. To see why, it is helpful to consider cases in which other things are

not equal.

Suppose one discovers a magazine of child pornography lying on a

railway station bench. As one picks it up to throw it away, one discovers, to

one’s horror, that one enjoys looking at the pictures. The relevant

belief/desire pair does not play a motivational-justificatory role in regard to

looking at the pictures—just the opposite. Such examples do not have to

involve something as objectionable as child pornography. Imagine one is

trying to overcome one’s time-consuming addiction to online chess. To this

end, one has vowed not even to look at an online chess site; however, one’s

eye happens to fall on one as one walks by one’s colleague’s office. The

sudden rush of enjoyment serves as an active reason to avert one’s eyes.

Other things being equal, however, a desire to engage in activity or have an

experience for its own sake provides justificatory support for doing so.

Imagine, for example, that you desire for its own sake to eat the last piece of

chocolate on the desert plate; other things are equal: there are absolutely no

countervailing considerations. It would be irrational not to eat it.

We conclude then that, other things being equal, when one enjoys Φ,

the relevant belief/desire pair functions as an active reason to Φ. Of course,

one need not act on the reason if competing reasons direct action along

different lines. Enjoyments divide into those characterized by condition (3) in

what follows, and those for which that condition fails to hold—thus: for some

array A of features

(1) x Φ’s;

(2) x's Φing causes x

(a) to occurrently believe, of Φ, that it has A, and

(b) to have the felt desire, of Φ, under A, that it occur for its own sake.

(3) the belief/desire pair in (2) functions as an active reason to enjoy

Φ.

Distinguish this type of enjoyment does not, however, yield the desired

distinction between enjoyments that engage one’s abilities and character and

those that do not. A further condition is required.

To see why, imagine Smith is enjoying the taste of chocolate. He is

just enjoying the undifferentiated chocolate taste, not the location of the

particular taste in the complex of possibilities that a chocolate gourmet might

discriminate. Assume that “other things” are indeed “equal,” and that the

relevant belief/desire pair serves as an active reason. The presence or

absence of an active reason distinguishes between the enjoyment of child

pornography or the online chess site, on the one hand, and the enjoyment

Smith’s enjoyment of chess and chocolate. The distinction between the latter

consists in the presence or absence of a normative reason.

To see the idea, consider the following example. Jillian, your co-

organizer of an academic conference, finds you savoring a glass of wine. She

asks how you can justify taking the time to savor the wine with emergencies

on all sides threatening to make the conference a failure. You explain that

one of the conference’s sponsors just brought and opened a fine burgundy,

which you describe as having “an aroma of cherry and a touch of smoke

combined with light tannins and a soft taste of red fruit, spice, and earth.”

You offer your description of the features as the reason for savoring the wine

despite the pressing demands of the conference. Your point is that you

regard the proposition that the taste has certain features is a normative

reason to experience that taste. A similar point holds for Smiths playing

chess. If he were asked why he is playing chess, he would reply that he plays

for the experience of maintaining forces in dynamic tension in way that calls

for creativity, courage, and practical judgment in an exercise of intuition and

calculation akin to both mathematics and art. That is, he offers the

proposition that the experience has the relevant array of features A as a

normative reason to have that experience. Note that, in both cases, the

normative reason is underived. To characterize these cases, we need to

introduce the notion of an underived normative reason. An underived

normative reason is a normative reason that is not derived. One regards a

reason as a derived reason for a person to perform an action A if and only

one thinks it is a reason for the person to perform A only because one thinks

there are other distinct reasons for the person to perform other actions, and

performing A is a means to performing those actions. Consider the

proposition that the wine has an aroma of cherry and a touch of smoke

combined with light tannins and a soft taste of red fruit, spice, and earth.

You do not regard that as a derived reason to taste the wine; you regard

those features as in and of themselves a normative reason to taste the wine.

Similarly for the proposition that Smith’s chess experience is one of a

calculative/intuitive display of creativity, courage, and practical judgment

required to forces in dynamic tension. Smith regards those features as in and

of themselves a normative reason to have the experience.

Contrast a Smith-like enjoyment of chocolate. Imagine, Jillian, your

distraught co-organizer, finds you savoring, not wine, but the taste of a piece

of bittersweet chocolate. She asks how, with emergencies on all sides, you

can justify taking the time to savor the chocolate. It would not be sufficient

to answer by noting that the relevant belief/desire pair functions as an active

reason to taste the chocolate. What Jillian wants to know is why you are

acting on that reason instead of the competing reason to attend to the needs

of the conference. You answer with a normative reason by insisting that the

demands of the conference are not so pressing that there is not time for a

momentary enjoyment. Your point is more enjoyment is better than less,

other things being equal; and that “other things” are “equal.” Note, however,

this normative reason does not consist of a proposition to the effect that the

experience of tasting the chocolate has certain properties. One may rightly

objection that there such a proposition, namely: “I am enjoying the taste of

the bittersweet chocolate.” You do not, however, regard this proposition as

an underived normative reason. Contrast your attitude toward the wine. You

regard the taste as in and of itself a normative reason to experience the

taste. You have no such attitude toward the bittersweet taste of the

chocolate.

To summarize, the wine and chess enjoyments, but not the chocolate

enjoyment, are characterized by the following conditions: for some array A

of features

(1) x Φ’s;

(2) x's Φing causes x

(a) to occurrently believe, of Φ, that it has A, and

(b) to have the felt desire, of Φ, under A, that it occur for its own sake.

(3) the belief/desire pair in (2) functions as an active reason to enjoy Φ

as having A.

(4) one regards the proposition that Φ has A as an underived

normative reason to enjoy Φ as having A.

It proves convenient to have a name for such enjoyments, so let us call them

normative reason enjoyments.

Normative reason enjoyments play an important action-guiding and

evaluative role. John and Sally may befriend each other in part because each

finds, in the types of experiences opera offers, underived normative reasons

to have those experiences; their shared normative enjoyments bind together,

not just through their shared enjoyment, but through the shared enjoyment

as a manifestation of a shared recognition of the features of opera as

providing an underived normative reason to experience those features.

Both see a gulf between them and Roger, who enjoys opera, but finds in its

characteristic types of experience no underived normative reason to have

those experiences. Roger just happens to enjoy opera in the way one may

just happen to enjoy chocolate or strawberries. Confronted with a choice

between opera and chocolate or strawberries, John and Sally have a reason

to choose opera that George lacks. Even when all three choose opera over

chocolate or strawberries, John and Sally choose for a reason George does

not. In general, one not only explains a range of one’s choices, but also

defines in part one’s character and style of life, in terms of the kinds of

experiences and activities recognized as providing underived normative

reasons to have those experiences or engage in those activities. One need

not enjoy such experiences or activities. One may think that there is an

underived normative reason to face danger with courage, but one may not

enjoy doing so. The normative reason enjoyments that do occur in one’s life

not only play an important action-guiding and evaluative role, they also often

serve as the basis for a wide variety of relationships and friendships. We

care about the types of normative reason enjoyments that occur in a person’s

life.

VI. Conclusion

Enjoyment in the following causal harmony: an activity or experience

causes a desire which it simultaneously causes one to believe is satisfied.

Normative reason enjoyments are characterized by the presence of an

underived normative reason to have the experience or engage in the activity.

Such enjoyments play a central role in the next chapter.