At the core of one of the most influential moral theories of utilitarianism lies a seemingly simple idea: actions are right if they lead to the “greatest happiness for the greatest number of people.” According to this philosophy, whose roots we find in thinkers like John Stuart Mill, the ultimate goal is to increase pleasure (in the broadest sense of well-being) and to reduce suffering.
But what does this dry philosophical principle mean when we step into a living classroom?
Every teacher, consciously or not, faces the utilitarian dilemma every day. We are leaders of groups of 20–30 unique individuals, and often our resources—time, attention, energy—are limited.
A daily dilemma
Imagine the following scenario: You are teaching an important, complex lesson that forms the foundation for an upcoming major exam. There are 15 minutes left until the end of the class. You sense that 85% of the class has understood the material and is eager to move on to the practical tasks that will reinforce their knowledge and give them confidence (pleasure).
At the same time, you notice three students at the back of the classroom whose eyes are vacant. They have clearly understood nothing. They are confused and anxious (pain).
What does the leader do in this moment?
If we strictly apply the utilitarian principle of “the greatest happiness,” the decision seems clear: we should move forward with the majority. Stopping the entire process for the sake of three students would disadvantage the other twenty-five, reducing the overall level of “happiness” and progress in the classroom. The logical solution is to give the majority what they need and try to catch up with the three lagging students later, during a break or with additional work.
The risk of arithmetic
Utilitarianism is a useful tool for managing large systems and groups. It helps us keep sight of the “big picture” and strive for the common good.
The danger for the educational leader, however, arises when this principle becomes the sole measure. If we always sacrifice the minority for the comfort of the majority, we risk turning education into a soulless arithmetic. True mastery in leadership is knowing when to apply the principle of the majority and when moral duty requires you to stop the entire “train” so as not to leave even a single passenger behind.
Because in education, unlike in mathematics, sometimes the happiness of a single student is equivalent to the happiness of the entire world.
