4) The Failure of the Experimental Method

A third method, often employed without explicit conceptualisation, can likely be identified as the experimental method. It can be summarised as follows: we seem to discover the value of something by experiencing it firsthand. We must question the effectiveness of this method: can the value of things be determined empirically? Is the empirical method suitable?

First of all, it seems that experience can teach us a great deal about the nature of a thing that really exists, how it works, what it looks like... but not about its value.

For instance, no matter how many experiments I perform on a lamp—disassembling it, subjecting it to an electric current, and even shaking it in all directions—I do not seem able to discover its place in the hierarchy of values. However, I would understand how it works, what it is made of, and so on.
Similarly, would we determine the value of the human body by examining it, dissecting it, or observing it under an electron microscope? Certainly not.
It is true that experience might reveal that one engine is more efficient than another; however, this pertains to a quality rather than to a hierarchy of values in the sense we intend. 'Efficiency' is a quality, not a value (and whether the quality 'efficiency' itself holds value remains an open question).
From this, we might propose the following statement: experience informs us about the nature of things, perhaps even about their qualities, but not about their value.

Conversely, if experiments could determine value, they would inevitably be biased. To take an example: it would be like trying to determine whether music has value by listening to a piece of music. Our conclusion would not be objective but would depend on contingent, arbitrary, and absurd factors, such as the choice of music (if we do not like that particular piece, we may not recognise any value in music, even though music is not limited to that piece), the quality of the interpretation, and so on.

Moreover, experience restricts me to neither loving nor hating anything until I have personally experienced it. To be able to hate murder, I would have to experience murder, i.e. kill someone, to comprehend the detestable nature of the act and to hate it with good reason. Furthermore, I would need to experience all existing things before being able to love or hate them, which is clearly impossible. There are far too many things to experience in a single lifetime, and many are beyond my reach due to my social, geographical, or physical circumstances. I will probably never experience going into space, nor enter certain exclusive circles reserved for millionaires, and so on.

Lastly, if we could only determine the value of things accessible to experience—i.e., what exists—we would be unable to assess the value of any metaphysical object, of anything belonging to the realm of dreams, imagination, or possibility. The value of countless things would remain beyond our grasp. If experience were our only means of determining value, we would go through life loving a very limited number of things.

5) The Failure of the Hedonistic Method

However, it seems that we frequently rely on a particular kind of experience to gauge the value of things: the pleasure they provide. The underlying assumption is that when something brings me pleasure, it is considered valuable, and the more pleasure it brings, the greater its perceived value. For instance, what indicates to me that a piece of music holds value is the pleasure I experience when listening to it.

In response, we can observe three issues: first, what brings someone great pleasure one day may provide no pleasure the next, or even in the following year; second, what brings significant pleasure to one person may yield none to another; and third, anything—even what seems absurd or cruel (such as taking pleasure in the suffering of others)—can bring enjoyment to some individuals.

From this perspective, the hedonistic method seems to logically lead to two conclusions: first, that values are constantly shifting, and that an object may lose the value it held only a moment earlier. Second, that since anything can bring pleasure, everything has value, including what appears absurd or cruel. Everything should be enjoyed, but human principles often dull our awareness of these pleasures. According to this view, wisdom consists in freeing ourselves from all moral and logical constraints, immersing fully in pleasure, and allowing it to guide us wherever it may. I call this approach 'eclectic' because it posits that everything—even violence and cruelty—possesses value.

In my view, the hedonistic concept is insufficient, as it only answers the question of what is good for human beings. We might answer this question by seeking what brings us pleasure; however, we cannot rely on pleasure alone to resolve the problem of values without introducing a dogmatic assumption: that what holds value must necessarily benefit us. As we noted in Chapter 2 during our analysis of Aristotle, it is inappropriate to introduce an anthropocentric postulate at the start of our inquiry; it may only serve as a conclusion.