While this would be great by itself (in a geeky kind of way), what makes it truly spectacular is the fact that Bentham actually created an algorithm to define exactly how much pleasure and pain an action would cause. (His application of algebra to life decisions is echoed by at least one complete whack-job modern author…)
To determine an individual’s pleasure or pain from an action, Bentham suggested weighing Intensity (pleasure’s strength), Duration (how long pleasure would last), Certainty (the probability action will result in pleasure), Propinquity (how soon the pleasure might occur), Fecundity (the chance the pleasure would result in further actions), and Purity (the probability these further actions would be pleasures and not pains). He also added Extent, taking into account the effects of said decision on other people.
We can only guess at the specific algebra Bentham used to compare these variables and he left no note of how to quantify, for example, intensity of pleasure, but in Bentham’s day he envisioned his hedonistic calculus used for many decisions, including calculating jail sentences: given a certain crime, Bentham thought it possible to determine the punishment that would outweigh the crime’s pleasure and thus prevent future crimes.
Interestingly, Bentham's thinking about prisons didn't stop at sentencing length. He also designed the prison known as the Panopticon, in which prisoners in open cells at all times feel as if they are being watched by guards in a central tower. To Bentham, the Panopticon allowed guards to gain "power of mind" over the prisoners. Here's his design:
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In the grounds of Lincoln Castle, UK, is a victorian chapel which is open to the public. It is positively claustrophobic. For each prisoner, there is a small cubicle with a door. After a prisoner entered a cubicle its door would be closed. There is a sloping roof over each cubicle and a sloping bench to sit on. The chapel was specifically designed to prevent prisoners from talking to each other and to prevent them falling asleep.
There are some photos on flickr by Lincolnian. When I was in Lincoln the woodwork was a nasty bluish green-grey paint. I think the bright varnishwork is for the benefit of tourists. Certainly, as I tried the experiment of shutting myself into one of these cubicles, I felt sorry for the wretches who had to endure the claustrophobia and the drabness of their lives whilst being talked at on the topics of ethics and morality.
"Blow, blow, thou winter wind ..." Shakespeare.